Something Like Family
by Jixie
Summary: It's been so long since Wily cared about anyone other than himself, but this insufferable robot is wearing him down. Meanwhile Bass keeps trying to prove he's worthy... of what exactly, he hasn't quite figured out. Somewhere in-between the push and pull is this thing that isn't family but sure is starting to feel like one. An anthology of short stories and ficlets.
1. Joyride

**Something Like Family**

by Jixie

Mega Man © Capcom

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\- Note: The setting for this fic is Mandi Paugh's 'verse' (Mega Man: The Series). If you're not familiar, no problem, it's pretty self explanatory. All you need to know is that Mega Man and Break Man (Proto Man) are living beings because reasons, which is a fluke thing that can't be replicated; Bass is a flawed prototype for 'Reploids'; no other robots are sentient. - This first chapter "Joyride" takes place during Mega Man: The Series # 18 "Taking Action", special credit to Mandi Paugh.

\- My previous fic "Things Trivial and Cherished" takes place near the end of this (although the timeline in intentionally nebulous). It's not required reading, both fics stand alone. That said: if you enjoy this one, I bet you'll like that one too.

\- Special thanks to beta reader aJennyAnn

* * *

**Joyride**

The signal tracer in Wily's ship was out of calibration. Again. Tracking Mega Man was harder than tracking normal machines, no thanks to his annoying unique physiology. It was one of the many, many things that Dr. Wily hated about him.

He struggled to split his attention between flying the saucer and adjusting the tracer. The smart thing would've been to use an auto-pilot, but for all Wily loved automation, here he was unwilling to give up control.

Bass was watching him, looking decidedly amused.

"Why don't you mind your own business?" Wily snapped when he noticed.

"Or," Bass replied, "I could fly it for you."

Wily made a coarse, nasal sound that was all at once both a scoff and a snort. "You've got to be kidding."

…but no, he was serious. While Bass didn't push the issue, he seemed intent, verging on enthusiastic. Wily shook his head. He knew letting the robot take the controls was a terrible idea— Bass had neither piloting experience nor pre-programmed skills, and this was not exactly a teaching moment.

The tracer beeped, shrill, persistent. Wily glanced at it, then over his shoulder at Bass, then back at the device. He grumbled. He sighed. He let go of the control stick and slid out of the pilot's chair. "Don't crash."

For humans, learning new skills was a gradual curve. With computers, it was a series of maddening starts and stops. Bass often split the difference between the two. But learning was still learning, it was _always_ a process.

Wily found himself smacking face-first into the signal tracer display panel as he was flung about the cabin.

"For land's sake! What are you doing?"

"I got it," Bass insisted.

A quick look at the monitor confirmed that no, he definitely did _not_ 'got it'. "Up! Pull up!" Wily said frantically. Moments later he scrambled to stay on his feet, grabbing the dash to avoid rolling down the steep incline that was the floor. There was a crash from deep within the ship indicating that the Guard Joes had taken a tumble. Irate, Wily shut off the tracer and stepped besides the pilot chair.

"Don't jerk the control stick, it requires light touch." Wily pointed to a switch on the console. "That's the craft's stabilizer, it's there for a reason. Use it." After a moment, he grunted. "We're too high, bring it down to a lower altitude. _Gradually_, you fool. It's not a race."

Finally he was able to return his focus to the signal tracer, turning it back on and quickly getting it calibrated. With that taken care of, he really should've taken over piloting, but… what the heck. Bass wasn't doing a great job, but he'd managed to not kill them. So far.

"Slow down," Wily scolded.

They got closer to their target, and both of them made the grievous mistake of assuming that the other was paying attention to _where_ they were headed. This turned out to be a problem, because Mega Man was in prison of all places, ironically for being falsely accused of murdering Dr. Wily. The moment the saucer was in shooting range, they were blasted out of the sky. In a truly hilarious twist of fate, they crash landed right into the prison itself.

Wily read Bass the riot act, although he was almost angrier at himself for having let the robot pilot in the first place. Bass was on the defensive, insisting it wasn't his fault. After all, they'd been shot at. Wily himself would've crashed under those circumstances.

The argument stopped dead when they realized Mega Man was there.

In a cell.

In cuffs.

It was all too easy. Too easy! And if _anyone_ was going to bungle such a sure thing, it was Dr. Wily and his circus of incompetent robots. Neither Bass, nor the cadre of Guard Joes, nor Wily using the ship's defense lasers were able to take down the persistent blue pest. Break Man showed up, and the situation quickly devolved from there. Soon Wily found himself retreating. Bass, on the other hand, was unrelenting. In the end Wily had to use ship's the tractor beam to literally drag him out of there.

"I _had_ them," Bass said, fuming. He spent the next few minutes sulking in silence.

Wily was equally furious, if not more. How Bass had managed to flub that, he didn't know, and he'd been there to watch it happen. The only reason he'd built Bass and kept him around was _to beat Mega Man_. If he couldn't do that, what was the point?

His anger slowly subsided, and he asked for a ground-level diagnostic. While Bass had taken some pretty bad hits, there was no major damage. With that out of the way, Wily found himself relinquishing the controls once more. "I'm tired," he said. "Take us back to the fortress."

It was couched as an order, but Bass could tell that Wily was accommodating him. It was impossible to stay mad, he grinned and took over. Moments later Wily was thrown into console. Again.

"Careful, imbecile!"

It was a bumpy ride home, but they made it in one piece, which sometimes was all that one could ask for.


	2. Standard Maintenance Procedure

**Standard Maintenance Procedure**

Things were rough in those early years.

Bass wasn't afraid of damage or even destruction and as a result would never show fear in battle. At first he'd been incapable of it. In time, like so many other things, fear became another learned experience.

What he did grow anxious of was the routine work to his software and more sensitive internal hardware. When it had started, 'emotions' were still very basic. Bass had the blunt instrument that was anger, the rough approximation of happiness, and not a whole lot else. Yet when subjected to the latest maintenance check ups or updates, the monitoring report would show a flurry of unusual activity. It took a little while to figure out… and much to Wily's frustration, he discovered it was sense of dread.

Not only was that an embarrassing weakness, but Wily was deeply insulted. He'd built the robot from scratch, and knew him better than Bass knew himself. Wily also knew what was in his best interest, even when Bass didn't… and he had the _nerve_ to be anxious about what Wily was doing?

So Wily ignored it. He didn't care— Bass had more than enough freedom already and was constantly pushing the envelope. If anything, the compulsory nature of standard maintenance was a clear reminder that Wily was the engineer and Bass was only a robot.

Except where Wily had been dismissive, Bass found the whole thing increasingly unbearable. It was bad enough having someone with the free rein to change anything and everything about him. The fact that Wily never actually told him what he was doing before hand didn't help. That it was involuntary, and he had no say in the matter… that just sent things over the edge.

This only got worse over time.

It was after a basic repair that Wily logged out and went to unhook him from the computer, and was surprised when Bass visibly recoiled from him. "What's the matter with you? Are you somehow interpreting this as painful?" he demanded. It _shouldn't _be. Wily wasn't cruel— well okay, _yes_ he was… but that was usually directed at his enemies.

"No," Bass said. He got down on the other side of the work table, so that it was between them, and freed himself from the cables. "It doesn't feel bad. It would be easier if it did, at least that would make sense. I just— I don't like maintenance. It…" He was at a loss for words and gestured ineffectually, growing frustrated. "It's invasive, and… have you ever formatted my drives? Wiped everything and started over?"

For the first time Wily started to wise up to just what he'd been putting Bass through, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"What? No. Don't be absurd."

"How would I know if you did?"

"Tch. You don't trust me."

"It doesn't matter if I trust you or not, you don't give me a choice."

He didn't say anything then, and he never did end up apologizing. The next time he'd developed an upgrade, however, Wily found himself tossing a disk to the robot. "Here. Take a look at that."

"A software update?" Bass was confused as he reviewed the contents.

"Yes."

He looked at Wily, failing to understand what was going on.

"Well?" Wily asked.

"It looks okay. What, do you want my opinion or something?"

Wily sighed and absently pulled at his hair in frustration. "No. Hmph. Do you _want_ the upgrade?"

Stunned, Bass nodded wordlessly.

Bass expected orders to follow, but Wily was surprisingly careful with his words. He made suggestions or asked questions, but never once gave a direct command. In the end, it wasn't truly freedom— Wily still held all the cards, but he realized that wasn't the point. The point was respect and allowing for boundaries. It was a strange turn, and the whole thing felt unnatural, but… he was trying. Even when he went to hook Bass up to the computer, he paused.

"It's fine if you do it," Bass reassured him.

Wily went to work, and gradually the awkwardness eased up, giving way to a sense of relief.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is set before MM8, and the winter storm prologue for 'Trivial' would take place some time between them, for anyone keeping track. (Ha ha, no one is keeping track).


	3. Long Live The King

**Long Live The King**

"No! Break Man!"

Mega Man's voice was wavering as he raced to his brother's side. He knelt besides him, with one hand on Break Man's back, the other a cannon, charged and ready to shoot at King.

Conversely Bass had already moved in on King, darting around as he focused rapid-fire shots at the larger robot's damaged shoulder. He gave a quick glance over to where Break Man lay. "Whoa, what happened to him!?"

"Hnn," Break Man groaned, and Mega Man looked down at him, brows furrowed in concern. The red and gray robot was still grievously injured from his earlier bout with King, where he'd been… well, 'eviscerated' wasn't the right word, but basically that. Now Break Man had over-ridden the safety power cap on his cannon, nearly frying himself, and seriously aggravating his wounds.

He needed to get him out of there. Normally the powerful teleporter in Break Man's shield was strong enough to bust through Wily's anti-teleporation field, but the arena they were fighting in was extra secure. They would need to physically leave the area before transporting to Dr. Light's lab.

There was a loud crash as Bass was flung against the wall. He rolled into a smooth landing, and tried to play it off as if King hadn't just trucked him. Then he immediately dove back into the fight. Persistence, thy name is Wily 'bot.

"Go, get him," Break Man urged. "I've taken out his shield for you."

"But…"

"Come on. You can't let Bass take all the credit."

They both glanced up at the ensuing battle. "Yeah right, he's getting his butt kicked," Mega Man replied wryly. It was only a slight exaggeration.

"I'm fine." He sat up, wincing, but then gave Mega Man a weak grin and a thumbs up. "Do your thing, Mega Man."

With a sigh of exasperation, Mega Man stood and started towards King, firing the charged shot he'd been holding as he approached.

King was no push-over, but the combined efforts of Mega Man and Bass were too much for him. Soon the fight wore down, and as it came to an end, three things happened. For one, King dropped the forcefield and allowed Break Man to transport to safety. Then he revealed that Wily had built him. This didn't surprise Mega Man in the least, but Bass was _absolutely livid_. Finally, Wily checked in only to find King had laid down his weapon… and threw a fit, punching in an over-ride command and upgrading the robot all at once.

The battle that'd been nearly over was renewed, and this time the two circumstantial allies found themselves fighting for their lives.

"A tank? A jet? Geeze! Make up your mind already!" Mega Man said, irate.

"_Wwwiiiiiiiilllllllyyyyyyy!_" Bass growled, his attention elsewhere. Hilariously— to Mega Man, at least— that name was the only thing he'd utter during the rest of the fight.

They spent much of the time dodging. The monstrosity towered over them, and it was hard to get a clean shot. "Aim for the head!"

That only earned Mega Man a baleful glare.

Mega Man found himself hopping up on a platform to shoot, then leaping back down to avoid getting blasted. Bass did high jumps for a while, before giving up and calling Treble in. Merged with the dog, he was easily able to reach the needed height. It took forever, but they finally defeated King, who expressed remorse before collapsing. Mega Man gazed at him mournfully, determined to stay with him to the end, but Bass strolled out of the room before King was completely powered down.

"Get a move on, stupid," he said, calling over his shoulder at Mega Man. With the room caving in, Mega Man hesitated, then followed. Moving deeper into the fortress, Bass groaned in disgust. "Great. Just great."

"…more Robot Masters. Yep, seems about right."

"I don't know why he keeps—" No, this was a mistake. Bass didn't want to give up anything to Mega Man. It was best to keep that little twerp in the dark.

Wily kept futzing with the adaptive AI configuration he'd developed. He was _trying_ to strike some kind of balance: a machine with enough autonomy and flexibility to beat Mega Man, while still having a slavish devotion to him. It would never work, you couldn't have it both ways, but danged if that stopped Wily from trying.

…he was too angry to keep his thoughts to himself. "So, what? Did Wily want me to destroy King, or for King to destroy me?"

"I kind of feel like either way was a win-win situation for Wily," said Mega Man. He was joking, but he was also probably right.

Bass was so mad that he let Mega Man choose which Robot Master to take on first. He just couldn't care anymore. They were in rough shape and low on energy— there'd been a frustrating dearth of energy tanks around— but they were also well equipped and versed in the different Robot Master's battle tactics. The two split up and it didn't take long at all for them to knock out the last round of robots between them and Wily.

Once they faced Wily's battle machine, a hulking skull-shaped craft, he berated them. There was the usual rants about thinking machines, how Mega Man was an living oxymoron and an noxious pest, how Bass had been a mistake and he regretted building him…

All the usual vitriol and derision.

Wily also ranted about how King had been a failure, and threatened to reprogram Bass in order to keep him under control. Mega Man couldn't help but think that while it may have been a win-win, Wily had apparently meant for King to come out on top. It left him with an uneasy feeling, because… well, whatever was going on there seemed bad for everyone involved.

Mega Man wasn't surprised when they defeated the war machine and the escape saucer, and Bass snatched Wily then disappeared. Seeing the look on the robot's face, he knew that _this time_ Wily probably would've been better off with Mega Man, and the assurance of prison, than being 'rescued' by Bass.


	4. Win Some, Lose Some

**Win Some, Lose Some**

"Restraining bolt!? _Restraining bolt_?" Bass threw Wily to the floor, glaring at him with pure, unadulterated loathing. "You spiteful, dirty, wicked, sleazy—"

"Get to the point already."

"I'm going to end you one of these days!"

"You can't," Wily replied coldly. He stood up, brushing off his pants. There were times that Bass's defiance and uncontrolled temper frightened him. This probably should've been one of them, but the fact that he wasn't being manhandled at that very moment gave him a rather foolhardy boldness.

Bass stood there for a second, fists clenched, before a devious glint flashed in his eyes. "Maybe. But I can think of ways to make you wish I could." Only then the empty threats gave way to what was actually bothering him: the betrayal. "You built King to get rid of me."

"I don't know what you're so upset about. You passed that test, didn't you?"

"Test!?"

"Hmm." Wily paused. "Face it. You haven't beat Mega Man. I don't believe you can."

"Of course I can, you stupid old—!"

"Tt! After so many defeats, I lost my faith. You should be able to destroy that little blue pest, heaven knows you're powerful enough. You have the resources and autonomy to do it. Why can't you win?"

"I _have_ beat him! How many times have I brought Mega Man back for you to finish off, and you let him get away? Or something else goes wrong, outside my control?"

Wily shook his head. "I've heard enough excuses. I decided to build a robot that was even more powerful than you, to find out if— if you're the problem or not. If you beat King, you'd prove to be the best I've ever built—"

Bass stiffened. _Those words_. Those words that he'd wanted to hear so badly for so long.

"—and if you'd failed, then I'd have one less problem on my hands."

Then he was back to being angry. Wily admitted it! "You _wanted_ him to win."

For a moment Wily stared at the ground.

"To tell you the truth, I don't really know what I wanted." With that, he headed into another room, gesturing for Bass to follow. "Giving King any autonomy was a mistake. It was a mistake with you too, but that's water under the bridge. If I can build a new version of King, one that is obedient, the two of you could work together to defeat Mega Man. The combined fire power—"

He froze mid-sentence. Break Man was in his lab, leaning heavily against the side of the computer console. Dr. Light had done what he could, but he was still in very bad shape, barely able to stand on his own two feet. The computer he was leaning on was demolished, the lower panels flung open and the circuit boards within blown to pieces.

"My plans!" Wily cried.

"Oops. You don't mean the plans that were on this computer, do you? Sorry, Doc."

"Augh! Bass, destroy Proto Man!" When the black and gold robot didn't budge, Wily started hopping up and down. "Did you hear me!?"

"Still alive and kicking, huh?" Bass said to Break Man, ignoring Wily.

Break Man smirked. "It looks like Wily's about to burst a blood vessel. Hey… you're acting on your own, aren't you?" When Bass didn't answer, he continued. "Do you want to know why you can't defeat Mega Man?"

"If you've got some smart-alec remark…"

"No, I'm being straight with you. It's because you have nothing to stand for… What have you been fighting for, Bass? You're here with Wily but you're not exactly championing him. You don't have anything or anybody to fight for— only yourself, right?"

His face fell. "What? If you think you're being deep, you're not. Get lost, Break Man."

"Fine," Break Man said. "Farewell, then." He gave a quick nod before teleporting away.

"Geeze! What I've fought for? That's ridiculous. I don't need a reason to fight."

"Oh, my plans, my blueprints," Wily said, groaning. "Blast that Proto Man. And you!" He grabbed a fist full of shattered board fragments and flung them at Bass. "Useless! Obstinate!"

Bass didn't react as the shards bounced off his armor. "Hateful," he countered. "Despicable." Then he smirked. "What are you carrying on about, anyway? You said it yourself… I beat King, proving that I'm the best. Right, Wily?"

Wily responded by pelting Bass with another handful of broken parts.

* * *

A/N: 1. The dialogue in Mega Man & Bass is so clunky. It was challenging to make it a natural sounding conversation.

2\. I'm kicking myself for not titling chapter one 'Crash Course'! What a missed opportunity.


	5. With Enemies Like These

**With Enemies Like These**

While Bass never successfully found any of Break Man's haunts, he was surprisingly good at guessing the sort of places he might go. Certainly better than Mega Man's guesses, at any rate.

Break Man already kept tabs on Wily, Bass, and a few other noteworthy individuals. Bass's attempt to track him down quickly got onto his radar, so Break Man trailed the other robot in an effort to figure out what he was up to. They were outside a small tourist town, off-season, overlooking some awe-inspiring canyon vistas. This was the fourth location Bass had tried, and disturbingly close to one of Break Man's 'home away from homes'.

"Hey," Break Man said. He still wasn't sure what Bass was up to, but decided it wasn't malicious. Probably. "You looking for me?"

"Yeah."

Then neither of them said anything for a while. Break Man was patient, but this was ludicrous. "So… are you trying to give me a heads up on some deranged plot that Wily's cooked up?"

"No. Why would I want to do that?" Bass replied.

There were plenty of reasons, but he let it slide. "Just wanted to check in to see how I was doing after the whole situation with King?"

"Nah, I knew you were fine."

"Then what's up? You lonely or something?"

"Of course not, moron." Bass had the sort of defensiveness that told Break Man he'd been a little too close for comfort there. At that point he changed the subject. "What do you do out here, anyway? Dress up like a human and… what, exactly?"

"All kinds of things. People watching mostly. Hang out at a coffee shop or a bar and just take in the scenery."

"You can't drink," he pointed out. "Plus, you look like a _child!_ Wouldn't they throw you out?"

"It's amazing how far an air of confidence will carry you. For the rest, there's fake IDs."

He was still incredulous.

"You know, Bass, some humans are short. It's a thing."

"It's not just your height, it's the eyes, and head-to-body ratio…"

"Yeah, yeah." Break Man held up a hand. "I have other hobbies too. Like making fake IDs, or knitting. That kind of thing."

"You do not knit."

"How do think I got this scarf?"

Bass stared at him. He was pretty sure Break Man was deadpanning, but there was also about a twenty percent chance he was serious. Break Man had to do a recall of his civilian outfit in order to lower his shades and wink.

…and since he was already dressed… "Have you ever used traditional human weapons?"

"Like… their little laser stun guns or whatever?"

"Well yes, but the powerful ones. Sniper rifles, explosive blasters…"

"No."

"It's a different skill-set, using a weapon that's not adapted to your built-in cannon. It's pretty fun."

'Fun' and 'weapons' was all Bass needed to hear. "You have my attention."

Break Man laughed. "Okay. There's a shooting range in town that— um, do you have a…?" He gestured at himself, indicating his plainclothes attire.

At first Bass shook his head, then did a recall and lost the helmet. He was still decked in armor.

"Hmm." Break Man rubbed his chin.

If the armor had been mostly form fitting like his and Mega Man's was, Bass might've got away with wearing clothes over it, combined with some creative color changes. As it was, he wasn't able to disguise himself— not unless they were going in-costume to a videogame convention, or a post-apocalyptic style music fest.

"The public range is out, then. I know a guy that's got some private property we can compete on."

Bass was torn, because this was getting increasingly convoluted, but at the same time, Break Man had just added 'compete' to the previously established 'fun' and 'weapons' and that was one too many things to resist.

"…okay."


	6. A Taste of His Own Medicine

**A Taste of His Own Medicine**

Muttering under his breath, Wily cursed the cutesy netnews journalist who had coined the virus 'roboenza'. It was stupid, and barely worked as a pun. He felt the name defanged it, at least in public perception. With modern medicine, actual influenza was rarely fatal, and the body could fight it off. His virus, on the other hand…

It was interesting how little people realized that they were surrounded by 'robots'. Industrial machines were affected, of course, and things like children's toys, and so forth. But so was the auto-driving feature in the soccer mom's mini hovervan. The hipster's intui-coffee maker, and the health nut's intui-juicer. The average consumer's grocery store self-checkout machine.

Wily had been especially devious with this one. He'd developed an antivirus program side by side with the virus itself. Except the antivirus _only_ worked with a hardware dongle acting as a key for the software. It prevented the program from simply being copied and freely distributed to the world— without the physical key, the 'cure' was useless.

The fact that his own robots had been infected so early and he'd lost the equipment needed to manufacture it, well, that was just unlucky.

He was in the midst of an especially bad run with Bass, who'd stormed off the week before, after they'd had a vicious argument. Nothing new or surprising there. In order for Wily to hide the fact that he was the source, he couldn't preventatively give any of his 'bots the cure… but he'd been willing to at least _offer_ it to Bass.

When the robot refused to answer his hails, Wily felt he was justified in letting him suffer.

…and suffer he did. Bass ended up working in tandem with Mega Man and Break Man to retrieve the components Wily needed to produce the cure, and to neutralize (or outright destroy) some of the more dangerous Robot Masters who'd been affected. Needless to say, he'd contracted the virus. Wily let him endure it for a while, but finally relented and sent Treble with the antivirus.

Once he'd recovered, but before they'd finished taking out the rest of the Robot Masters, Bass pinged Wily on the com, justifiably outraged.

"Wily you jerk. You were behind this! Do you have any idea— that was— I could've been deactivated, you nutcase!"

"Heh heh heh. Well, you're fine now, so what are you complaining about?"

"Why didn't you at least give me a heads up or something!?"

Wily chuckled again and steepled his fingers. "Why didn't _you_ answer my com calls?"

Bass seethed and disconnected. Then he called back seconds later. "I'm gonna make you pay for this, Wily."

"Sure, sure." He always made such threats, it was a tired old routine.

But it was cruel and ironic fate that would get Wily in the end. The trio finished off the rest of the Robot Masters and other 'bots, and Mega Man defeated Wily's battle machines and saucer, and once again the mad scientist escaped by the skin of his teeth. By the time Bass showed up to 'teach him a lesson'… Wily had come down with a terrible bout of the flu. The _actual_ flu.

"Something wrong with you? Oh, you've got a fever! How'd you end up catching 'roboenza'?" Bass asked, mocking Wily, knowing full well it wasn't the computer virus. "Good thing you have a cure on hand. Although I don't know _where_ you'll plug in that hardware dongle."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Wily. He wheezed and shook his fist as Bass left him there. Once out of sight, Bass ordered a nearby Guard Joe to send an alert if the Wily took a turn for the worst.

He came back later when he knew Wily was asleep, passed out at a computer terminal.

"Stubborn old grouch," Bass muttered as he collected Wily in his arms. This could've been left to one of the Joes, but…

He dropped him off directly at a prison hospital, making a rude gesture to the medical staff and corrections officers before teleporting away.


	7. On Your Mother's Grave

**On Your Mother's Grave**

If there was one thing Dr. Albert Wily didn't do, it was oaths. Not ones he actually expected to be held to, at any rate.

"Swear it," Bass insisted.

"No. I said I wouldn't, and my word is my bond."

"Your word doesn't mean squat and you know it."

"Touché."

"Come on, Wily. Swear it _on your mother's grave_."

Wily scoffed. "On my mother's… she's not dead, you know."

In all his life he never saw a robot look so completely and utterly confounded as Bass did in that moment.

"_How?_ She'd have to be two hundred years old or something."

"Wh— how old do you think I am?" But Wily chuckled as he shook his head. Bass knew exactly how old he was. As for his mother… "She's eighty-six, you nitwit."

For a minute there was silence as Bass stood there, still gobsmacked, processing this information. "You're not in contact with her, I take it. What about the rest of your family?"

Wily laced his fingers together and clasped his hands behind his head. His father had died back when he was in college— messy hovercar accident, _that_ had been a closed-casket funeral. His older brother died some thirty years ago— choked on his own vomit in a drunken stupor, and _that_ funeral had been the last time he'd seen or spoken to any of his relatives. His sister had checked out… it was going on eight years now… no, twelve— having put a high-powered laser cannon in her mouth, _that_ one he hadn't learned about until years after the fact. His various nieces and nephews had long since changed their last name and done everything they could to distance themselves from the Wily legacy.

"Gone."

"That's a shame."

"What makes you say that?"

"Isn't that stuff important to humans… family, blood ties, heritage, that kind of thing?"

"That is all far more trouble than it's worth. Between the two, I'd take robots over family any day," Wily said, then he tried to shoo Bass away. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"I'm not leaving until you swear never to—"

"Gah! Do you seriously think for one moment that I'd ever want to have _two_ of you running around? I can barely tolerate you as it is."

Bass scowled and said nothing.

"What does it matter to you, anyway?"

All he knew was that the idea of being duplicated in any form or fashion rubbed him wrong.

He hadn't put any thought into insignificant details like _why_ he felt that way… but Bass had subconsciously formed some opinions on things like 'identity' and 'self'. A complex subject for living souls, and a nightmarish philosophical labyrinth for sentient machines. Past the broader topics such as 'what defines a person?' were the murky depths unique to robots. Like the whole Ship of Theseus conundrum, posing the question 'if every part of me is replaced over time, am I still the same individual?' Bass wasn't but so concerned about that— his hang up was on the continuity of his software.

…and on being the only one of himself. Having watched Wily constantly clone, replicate, and rebuild his Robot Masters put Bass on edge. Wily _said_ he wouldn't do that with him, but…

"It matters because I'm an original, one-of-a-kind, and I'd like to keep it that way alright?"

Close enough.

Wily rolled his eyes.

"Come on!" Bass said. "If you won't guarantee it, then the next time you try to stage a coup, I'm going to back the blue twerp and help him foil your plans."

That did not get the reaction he expected. Wily howled with laughter, doubled over, and needed a few minutes to compose himself.

"Spiteful little menace. You say that as if you weren't going to do it in the first place," he said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

Seeing how sore Bass was about it, however, he relented.

"Fine. I swear I will never clone or otherwise copy you." Wily held out his hand… and then continued to stand there as Bass failed to understand the gesture.

"Was that so hard?"

"Shake my hand, moron."

Bass hesitated before reaching out and gingerly shaking hands, sealing the deal.

"I can't help but notice that you never said you _wouldn't_ betray me if I conceded," Wily said.

"I can't exclude the possibility," Bass replied with a shrug.

"Fair enough. On that note: if I built another robot using your off-site backup, it wouldn't be a clone or a copy, because it would be using the same original software…"

That was a mistake. Bass already disliked the backup, feeling that if he was destroyed and rebuilt using it, that his continuity was disrupted and the new robot would be a separate person— and yes, still a copy. Plus it felt like an unnecessary safety net, one he was certain he didn't need.

It'd come up before, when Bass shut down that function and Wily berated him and turned it back on, only for Bass to discreetly switch it off again… This was destined to become a massive row, but he'd just had a win and knew better than to push. For now.

He clutched his chest protectively and didn't say anything.

Instead he changed the subject. "So where does your mother live?"


	8. Fricken' Starlings

**Fricken' Starlings**

Treble was worrying at something, and was so intent that he ignored Bass's call. It was very small, whatever it was, and he couldn't see what had so captivated the robotic dog's attention.

Giving up, Bass strolled over and was surprised to find it was a nestling songbird. Tiny and hideous, its fat body and tiny wings were mostly naked, sparse feathers still wrapped like quills. A comically large beak stretched open as the bird's head wobbled on an impossibly scrawny neck.

"Breep! Breep! Breep!" it screeched.

"Fricken' starlings keep getting into the building," Bass muttered as he turned away. "C'mon Treble, leave it alone."

He left, but the dog did not.

A few minutes later Bass returned to drag Treble away. "You're being ridiculous. It's just a stupid bird. It's doomed to have a short, pointless life anyway… might as well get that out the way now."

Treble looked up at him and whined.

"Breep! Breeeeep!"

Dr. Wily was practically at the other end of the fortress, elbow-deep in the chest cavity of the new Robot Master that he was building. He was so focused he didn't even notice when Bass and Treble entered the room, and startled— burning his fingers with the soldering iron— when the robot addressed him.

"Hey, Wily. You got anything a bird can eat?"

He whipped around, flipping up the magnifying headband so he could see. "_What_."

"Probably not. Don't they eat worms or seeds or some crap?" He thought about it for a moment. "I guess… we could feed it beans? That's kind of like seeds, right?"

Wily rubbed his eyes and groaned. Bass was holding a baby bird in his cupped hand.

"I don't have time for this… bah. You're not— just— you're supposed to put it back in the nest. Its mother will take it back."

Bass hesitated. "The birds that get trapped in here? Sniper Joes use them for target practice." So did he. At the time it'd been entertaining, _now_ it made him feel gross. He didn't like this feeling. "The mom is dead."

"You don't _know_ that."

"Yeah I do, I can tell."

Wily was right and Bass was just being stubborn, but he'd already wasted enough time on this asinine conversation. He wasn't about to get into an argument over a lousy bird.

"Fine, feed it beans and get out of my hair."

"It sounds stupid when you say it. What do they eat?"

"Do I look like I know? More to the point, do I look like I _care?_"

Disgusted, Bass left. He was able to find answers on the net, and learned that the pitiful little creature was cold and dehydrated. Washcloths (stolen from Wily's toiletries) stuffed into Treble's access panel made a makeshift nest, and the heat from the robot dog's processor kept the bird warm. Taking great care to avoid drowning it, Bass used a pipette to give it water.

Songbirds feed their young bugs. Lots, and lots, and _lots_ of bugs. More than was possible for a human— or a robot— to provide. The ideal substitute was a specialty formula, but the more practical solution was a porridge made from soaked kitten food. Incidentally, neither were staples that Wily kept on hand.

Getting something as simple as kitten food was… complicated. The process for which Wily got food and supplies _was a process_, and the fastest turnaround was three days. Regular shopping wasn't an option. Wily was too notorious to go out in public (not that he'd ever run errands for Bass, especially not this), Bass wasn't able to blend in, and sending any of the lesser robots just meant stirring up a lot of trouble over petty theft of pet food. For a stupid bird that was probably going to die anyway.

Much to Wily's annoyance, Bass came back to asking what to do.

"_Kitten food?_ Ugh. Can't you see I'm busy?" He tapped his fingers against the chassis of the inanimate Robot Master. "Why don't you go bother your annoying little 'friend' instead?"

"Eh, I don't think this is the kind of thing— I mean— What, Break Man? That loser, are you kidding?"

"Oh for crying out loud—! Would you just leave me alone?"

As it so happened, Break Man was more than happy to help. He met up with Bass in a neutral location, with legally obtained kitten food and rolls of paper towels and extra small syringes and an actual heating pad. That crisis averted Bass, with Treble's help, dutifully fed their tiny ward every hour, cleaned up after it, kept it warm and safe.

Two days later it was dead.

"How!? I did everything right!"

Wily was alarmed, because it was clear Bass was furious… _but_ he wasn't acting out. The walls went unpunched, the shelf was still standing, the work table had not been kicked. He took it as a bad sign. 'Please,' he thought, 'please don't let this childish robot be grief-stricken over some feathered vermin.' Wily was ill-equipped to handle Bass's moods on a good day. Loss of a pet fell deep into the zone of 'I Never Signed Up For This'.

"And you're… saddened by it…?"

"Don't be stupid! I'm _angry_ because— like I said, I did everything right, but that dumb thing still bit the dust!"

"Hmmm." Well, Wily could certainly empathize with that. "Such is life. Sometimes you do your best and things just don't work out." He gestured at himself. "I've got at least ten fool-proof plans for world domination under my belt, and yet here I am: the leader of some worthless robots and nothing more."

The number of failed attempts was much, much higher than that, and _none_ of Wily's plans could be called 'fool-proof'. Not a single one.

"That's different. You can always try again— heck, you're working on a new plot right now. But this…" A resentful look crept across his face. "I had one chance, and I blew it."

"It was just a bird. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter."

Wily couldn't have been more wrong. Bass had only recently begun to appreciate life's fleeting nature, and these things— respect for life, fear of loss, the inevitability of death— were bound up in his feelings towards his creator.

He'd felt guilty for shooting the pesky birds in the first place, ashamed of his perceived part in making the nestling an orphan. He wasn't exactly capable of grief yet, but there was overwhelming disappointment. It stirred up something ugly and painful and—

_terrifying_

—and he hated it. It was weak. It was… it was…

"It's not fair," Bass said finally.

"No, it's not," Wily agreed.

* * *

A/N: In my heart of hearts I'm pretty sure if Bass found a helpless orphaned animal he'd just stomp on it.

This chapter definitely takes place after 'Trivial'.


	9. The Human World, It's A Mess

**The Human World, It's A Mess**

"You know what I don't get? I don't get Mega Man's ridiculous obsession with being human. He wants to be like them, blend in with them, if it weren't for you he'd find a way to get himself turned into flesh and blood. It's completely absurd."

"Hmmm," Dr. Wily replied, not even bothering to look up from the printout he was reading. There was no way Bass would come in here— a boring, messy data room— and start an unsolicited rant about how annoying Mega Man was— although to be fair, Mega Man _was_ very annoying— unless there was some angle. Wily had a few ideas what it might be, and found himself mentally betting on the odds that it was one thing or another.

"Sure, we were designed to imitate them, but we're also an improvement in every possible way. Why would a robot want to reduce himself to that level? Humans are weak, fragile, they get old. They have all these… byproducts. You know you guys shed _nine pounds_ of dead skin cells each year?" Bass gestured vaguely. "Don't even get me started on that whole digestion disaster."

"Yes, please don't get started." The last thing Wily needed was his long-winded opinions on the matter. Bass was _unimpressed_, to put it lightly. But then Wily found he couldn't help himself. "You do realize, if you did a cost analysis of energy consumption and usage, from processing plant to E-Tank versus farm to bowl of oatmeal, we're still more versatile, efficient, and cost-effective."

This was a dangerous path to go down, potentially carrying them to other, far worse topics. Heaven help them if he got onto the subject of reproduction. Talk about obsessions Bass couldn't comprehend.

Bass rolled his eyes. "That's just looking at cheap staples. It's less cost-effective if you're talking about a quality meal. Most people don't eat canned vegetables and dry cereals every single day."

"Well, I do."

It was true. Dr. Wily's provisions were carefully selected based on 'can be stored safely for years on end', 'cheap', and 'requires the least amount of prep as humanly possible' in that exact order.

"Yeah but you're _really weird_."

That was also true. Wily chuckled and put down the report. "Bass, what do you want?"

"Can't I just have a conversation?" Bass crossed his arms in mock offense.

Wily said nothing, silently staring until Bass relented.

"Alright, fine. I just was thinking…" He hadn't the chance to finish his wind-up, and now had to skip the rest to get to the point. "…That, ah, _sometimes_ it might be convenient if I could pass."

"As human?"

His second guess. Wily mentally paid off the bet, at the same time raising his brows to look convincingly surprised.

"No. Yes. I mean— I could handle business for you without raising suspicion."

"Go on…"

"And it could… it could be useful for ambushes?"

"Is that a statement or a question?"

Bass _actually_ looked embarrassed. Incredible.

"It— see—"

"We successfully carry out ambushes all the time. And I managed to handle my affairs without meeting anyone face-to-face for _years_ before I built you and will continue for _years_ after Mega Man ends your little reign of terror. If I needed a robot to act as a proxy, I'd make one that was a bit… taller."

"Tch. Would you just think it over?"

"You want me to do a rebuild— one that won't help win any battles— but you don't even appreciate the things I have done for you. Do you have any idea how _frivolous_ hair is on a robot? The time it takes to do it right, make it look realistic? None of my other robots can take their helmets off. That I did without ever being asked, I might add."

"Oh, gee, _thank you_," Bass said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "If you want to get appreciation you have to show some."

"Hmph." Wily leaned back, drumming his fingers on the table. "I appreciate that you've somehow avoided destruction so far."

Exasperated, Bass slapped his forehead and groaned. "Wily…"

"Why do you want this… so you can go tour the city, see a movie, hang out with those idiots you're always sending written com messages to?"

Bass made a lot of different faces before settling on scowl. "_Wily_."

"Out of curiosity, do they know you're a robot, or do they just think you're a mentally ill half-wit?"

"Forget you." Bass spun on his heel and began to storm out. "I don't have to take this abuse."

Wily grabbed the closest thing in reach— a handheld scanner— and chucked it at him. It was a lucky shot, clocking Bass on the back of the head.

"'Abuse' he says," Wily mocked. "You wouldn't know abuse if it hit you in the—"

The look Bass gave Wily was one of pure death. He paused, turning halfway, clenching his fists. "Yeah, I know what it is. Just because I didn't _then_, doesn't mean I never figured it out."

At first Wily had nothing to say. After a moment of thought, he waved dismissively and came back with: "Robots can't be abused, any more than you can be cruel to a toaster oven. Impossible. As far as the law is concerned—"

"Since when do you care about the law?" Bass's expression wavered between indignation and disgust. "I know, I know, I have no rights. That's not what we're talking about, don't play stupid."

An uncomfortable pause followed.

"Fine. You are informed on the subject. Happy?"

"Not really, you know, Wily— Never mind." He knew he'd never get an apology, but that didn't stop him from wanting one. "Would you just do the darn rebuild?"

"No."

"_Why?_"

Wily glanced away, growing oddly somber.

"You've seen first-hand how well trying to 'fit in' has worked out for Mega Man. Their hero! Believe me, that armor protects you from more than physical attacks." There was a hollow, defeated look in his eyes. "Do you know what actually sets robots apart, what makes them superior? Mankind hates and fears anything different. There might be some individuals out there who are agreeable, but as a whole… humans will never accept you, or Mega Man, or any of your kind. _Never_. They feel threatened with the very idea of you, of being replaced by you. You've seen it in action. You know I'm right."

Wily picked up his printout, apparently finished. Each response Bass thought up was less satisfying than the last, and Wily's startlingly reasonable answer took the wind out of his sails. He gave up and wordlessly started heading out.

"If I did this thing," Wily continued abruptly, "let you go out there disguised as one of us, pretending to be something you're not, the way that fool Dr. Light lets his creations do… _that_ would be abuse. Because humans will grind you into the ground until there's nothing left but a mile-long streak of pulp on the pavement." He briefly lowered the paper. "I don't care what you do on your own, it's not my business. Just don't expect me to contribute to this nonsense."

Bass lingered right outside the doorway for a moment. "I really can't stand you."

It wasn't angry, more resigned and wistful, almost— almost!— affectionate.

Wily chuckled and mockingly placed a hand over his heart. "I really can't stand you, too."

There was surprisingly genuine warmth, dangerously bordering on tender.

"Whatever," Bass replied, doing a poor job of pretending he didn't care. "Jerk."

"Hooligan," Wily called after him.

A few minutes later Wily shuffled his papers, trying to clear his head, then got up to fetch the handheld scanner. He wasn't getting any work done, not now. As for Bass, he sulked around outside for a while, before reluctantly deciding that Wily had a point.

* * *

A/N: "I gave you hands, a child's face… *heh*… robot hair. But this b̶u̶r̶d̶e̶n̶ impertinence, the b̶u̶r̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ badness in your heart, I did not put there."

This is one of my favorite chapters.


	10. Oma (Part 1)

**Oma (Part 1)**

Withered and small, with scant wisps of white hair, and skin so thin and crepey that it was nearly transparent. Ingrid Wily was pushing ninety and had lost everything but her mind. It was a mixed blessing— she didn't envy the residents plagued by Alzheimer's, but there were plenty of things she would have liked to forget.

Bass wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but somehow, she was it. Perhaps the most surprising thing about her was that she wasn't the least bit surprised when a robot showed up in her room.

"Finally sent one of those things to finish me off," she said, with the faint hint of a German accent. She was resigned. "Well, it's a waste of effort if you ask me. God will punch my ticket soon enough, might as well let time do the job for you."

"What? I'm not here to kill you, crazy old hag."

She stared at him through the impossibly thick lenses of her heavy glasses.

"What is it, then? Bertie trying to make amends?"

"No. Wily doesn't know I'm here."

"Hmm, hmmm, hmm."

He had looked up Dr. Wily's mother, the only living member of the immediate family. It had been easier than expected— Ingrid hadn't changed her name or tried to hide, in spite of all Wily had done. Then he'd sat on that information for many long months before deciding to do something about. What that thing was, he didn't know… he was playing this one by ear.

The room was small, depressing, and shared with another resident who slept through the entire visit. The air was stale, the lighting dim, and creepy looking baby dolls lined the far wall. Wily had all sorts of ways (legal or otherwise) to fund his work, if he had cared at all he could've made sure his mother was in a better home than this.

"So what is it you do?" Ingrid asked. "Chop down trees, or spin like a top? You all got some silly gimmick, ja?"

"I'm a combat robot. No gimmick here. I can copy other robots weapons, which is a special ability."

"Sit," she ordered.

He took his helmet off first, because it seemed the polite thing to do. …Not that Bass was ever concerned about trifling things like manners.

"Bertie's gotten pretty good at this. You act very convincing."

"It's not an act," Bass said. "I think independently and have emotions."

"Huh." She didn't seem to buy it.

"It's not Wily's style, I'll give you that, but he custom-made me expressly to beat Mega Man—"

She made a sharp sound, cutting him off. "I might not be the most up to date, but even in this place we'd hear about it if Mega Man was killed."

Bass scowled.

"You're really upset, aren't you? My, my. A robot with feelings. What shall they think of next?" With a sigh, Ingrid closed her eyes and leaned her head back. "Does he ever say anything about me?"

The most Wily had ever said about his mother was that she was alive. Up until recently Bass hadn't even known that much. For some inexplicable reason he felt a need to fudge the truth on this.

"Sometimes. He won't admit it, but he regrets what he put you through."

She opened one eye. "You're a terrible liar."

Bass shrugged.

"…He said 'she's not dead'. That was it."

This earned a laugh, weak and raspy.

"So, robot… my son built you, which makes us what?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Sounds right. You got a name?"

"Bass."

"That's a strange name. I don't like it."

"I like it, and you can go fly a kite."

"You certainly have a smart mouth on you. Does Bertie put up with that?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Why did you come 'round here, robot?"

"Just curious, I guess."

"Well, they say that curiosity killed the cat. You should get going, and it's best you not come back. Don't tell your papa you were here."

"He's not my— he's not— that. And I won't. Either of those things." With that, Bass stood, ready to transport. "Bye."

"Auf wiedersehen."

The next day Ingrid harangued one of the caretakers into finding a picture on the net and downloading it to one of her digital photo displays. It was a netnews pic from when Bass had attacked the mayor's office, and with Treble Boost equipped he looked downright diabolic, complete with bat-like wings. She put it up amidst the digital displays of the rest of her family (sans Albert). When anyone asked, she'd say:

"That's my grand-absolutely-nothing. He's a robot but don't hold it against him, he's the only one of my grand-children who ever visited me in this dump."

* * *

A/N: Make no mistake, Wily didn't get his cruel streak from his father.


	11. Across the Middle

**Across the Middle**

"Good. I was starting to think you weren't coming." The smug look on Break Man's face betrayed his words. He was dressed casually, the white and blue jersey clashing with his signature scarf and shades, a courier bag slung across his shoulder.

"I said I would," Bass replied defensively. "Something came up at the last second."

"Something?"

"Hey, I've got to keep some of Wily's secrets." This actually wasn't a secret, he'd been busy taking care of a little malware problem… but that really wasn't any of Break Man's business. "So what is it you've got planned?"

Break Man broke into a cryptic smile. "You ever watch sports? Soccer, that kind of thing?"

"Tsk. I don't live in a cave, stupid."

"How about football?"

At that point Bass shrugged. "I know of it, but Wily only watches baseball and college basketball."

Break Man's brows shot up so high that they peeked out over his shades. "_College_ basketball? Not pro?"

"Yeah. He's really particular about it… says pro is 'too corporate'."

"Ha! Seriously?"

"I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. He doesn't even really watch it, just has the game on in the background while he works on schematics and these thousand-piece jigsaw puzzles…"

"Ah ha ha! That's perfect. You know Dr. Light cleared out one of the storage rooms to set up a model train track?"

"Model trains? Sheesh." Bass shook his head slowly. "Old people…"

"Alright, well," Break Man said, bringing the conversation back on track. "You're about to get a crash course in football. You can change the color of your armor, right?"

"Of_ course_." He seemed insulted by the question.

"Good. Lose the helmet, put this on, and try to match the colors as best you can."

Break Man pulled a wadded-up shirt from his bag and tossed it to Bass. It was another team jersey, black and teal and a few sizes too large. Bass held it up and looked at Break Man with growing irritation.

"Over my armor?"

"Yeah. Here's the thing about football fans— actually, most sports fans. They love to dress up. Show support for their team and show off to other fans."

"So?"

"So, the players wear pads under their uniforms. Throw that jersey on, get your boots and tights to match—"

"They're _not tights!_" Bass interrupted.

Break Man ignored him and kept going. "—and everyone will assume you're the kid of some die-hard fan who'd sell his soul so the Buzzards win the Mega Bowl. Heck, even the marks on your face… what do you call those, tattoos? War paint?"

"I don't really call it anything." 'War paint' sounded cool, he was going to have to hang onto that.

"Can you change their colors, too?"

"No, stupid. It's my face, not something _on_ it."

"That's fine, it's close enough. Sometimes players put black makeup under their eyes, and it's pretty similar to whatever you've got going on there. To tell you the truth, if this was anywhere else people would think you look like a freak, but here it'll help sell the look."

Bass glowered at him, but the effect was lost because his attempt to put the jersey on had only succeeded in getting tangled. He had one arm through a sleeve, and was trying to get the rest of the shirt over his head, but it was caught up on one of his pauldrons.

"Hang on. Stop. Stop. Here…" Break Man chuckled as he extracted Bass from the self-made snare.

"I do _not_ look like a _freak_." Bass scowled and tried to sound menacing. Instead, it came across as pouty and childish. This only made Break Man laugh harder, increasing the Wily 'bot's ire.

With Break Man's help he managed to get 'dressed', such as it were. It was a first and Bass couldn't say the novelty of wearing clothes was worth the effort. If anything, it caused some annoying interference with his proximity sensors. Once the colors of his armor were swapped to match, Break Man stepped back to appraise his look— and it sure was _'a look'_— then nodded and gave a thumbs up.

"Perfect. It's ridiculous, but it works." Break Man then sidled up and threw an arm over Bass's shoulders. There was a remarkable lack of protest or violence. "By the way, you're rocking the away team's colors, and these guys are the Cowpoke's division rivals. There's a lot of bad blood there."

Bass shrugged him off, although he didn't seem to actually mind. Until recently, Break Man would never have gotten away with such casual physical contact. He wouldn't have dared.

"You did that on purpose."

"Guilty as charged. Now… we'll be in a private suite, and honestly, people will probably mistake you for a child, so we shouldn't run into any problems. But just in case anyone tries to curbstomp you, _do not_ shoot them. Or do anything else that would kill or seriously injure a human."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Bass gave him a questioning look. "How'd you manage to swing the zenny for a private suite?" As far as he knew Break Man didn't have a proper job, and saving the world never actually paid out, and it was unlikely he'd taken it off of Dr. Light.

"It's called judicious use of a teleporter, and is it _really_ stealing if the suite was already paid for but the ticket holder isn't around?"

"…Oh."

"If anyone asks, you have incurable brain cancer and Wish-Upon-A-Star is sending you to every Buzzards game in the season."

"That's pretty devious for a Light 'bot. I'm impressed."

Break Man laughed, then keyed in the coordinates, transporting both of them to the stadium.

The preamble didn't appeal to Bass, he wasn't interested in the marching band or cheerleaders, the anthem or patriotic exhibition, or any of the other accouterments. The game itself, however, caught his attention.

"Ohh, it's violent."

"You like that, don't you? Well kid you're going to love hockey."

Bass glanced over at Break Man, perplexed. "Hockey?"

Half an hour later and Bass was deeply invested, gleefully hurling insults at the home team. Mostly foul insinuations about the Cowpoke's namesake. Surrounding fans were very unhappy with the disturbingly graphic jeers, but Break Man was right: they thought he was just a badly behaved child (which was not all that far from reality). At most Bass got a few angry expletives shouted back at them, along with 'go home you yanks!' and 'where y'all's parents at?' and 'punk kids!'

Break Man sat back and took it in, all too amused. He'd once told Bass that peoples' perception was built on how you carried yourself. Just acting like an adult usually got him treated like one. Putting on the air of confidence that he was where he was supposed to be— whether it was mundane as a coffee shop or risky as a stolen stadium suite— took him far. Bass had invariably proved that the opposite was also true.

Like Wily and his basketball, Break Man wasn't very focused on the game itself. Instead he worked on the sweater he was making for Roll.

"That doesn't look anything like your scarf," Bass said, once he noticed what Break Man was up to.

"Of course not, my scarf is woven, machine made."

Bass scoffed. "I knew you were full of it."

"Full of what?" Break Man asked, teasing. "Anyway, I wasn't lying about the fact that I have hobbies."

"Hey. You know technically that thing you're working on is _also_ machine made."

"Fair point."

Distracted, Bass watched him knit for a few minutes. "If your scarf is just some off-the-shelf item, why do you care about it so much?"

"It was a gift," Break Man said, mysterious as ever. He refused to elaborate any further.

During halftime Bass started to broach more meaningful conversation. Break Man had a feeling that _something_ was weighing on his mind, but had left it up to Bass to bring it up or not.

There'd been no hidden objective for this particular outing. He'd recognized how desperately Bass needed some kind of positive interaction, every bit as much as he needed help and guidance. Most of the time they hung out together was just that: socializing. It was a mixed bag for Break Man, because Bass could be difficult— and usually was— but he was also unintentionally entertaining. And while Bass wasn't a very good friend in return, Break Man started to think of him more like a terrible baby brother, a role he excelled at.

"Do you have an idle setting?"

"What, you mean going into standby?"

"Yeah, that."

"I used to," Break Man said. "These days I actually sleep."

At first Bass looked surprised, but then shrugged. "I guess that makes sense." He dropped the subject for a few minutes, before abruptly picking up where he left off. "But you _used_ to."

"Yes. Why, what's up?"

"Eh… it's stupid."

Break Man facepalmed. 'You brought it up,' he thought. "Try me."

"It's— it's just, my database has being doing some weird stuff lately, and I'm not sure if it's a glitch and I should tell Wily, or…" He paused, then glanced back at Break Man. "It's pulling old memory files, re-configuring them with these… I don't know how to describe it. Details that are completely fabricated? Then just sort of… make a new fake memory out of it."

By some miracle, Break Man kept a straight face. "Hmmm. This only happens when you're in idle mode?"

Bass nodded 'yes'.

"And you can tell it's a fake memory? You're not confusing these with actual events."

"No, no, they're formatted wrong and… they're usually kind of, um, weird."

Break Man stroked his chin, looking like he was lost in thought. "Give me an example."

"Oookay… The last one was a skewed version of a battle with a Yellow Devil. Except we can't just teleport to the site, so we're heading there on this bridge—"

"Wait, who is 'we'?"

"Me and Treble, you, Mega Dweeb, Crash Man— only he's _not_ Crash Man, he's this green chick with pigtails— and Trigger. Do you remember Trigger? Little blond android?"

"Sure. Sion Piesk's robot."

"Crash Girl— or Earthquake or Tremor Lady or something— is driving and I kept thinking 'how is she driving, she doesn't have hands?', and 'when did we get in a hovercar?' At some point I'm arguing with Mega Man about bringing Trigger along, because he's not built for combat, it's stupid. It's just really stupid. As we go down the bridge, it turns out that it's still under construction, and there's no guardrails, then the pavement itself is gone, and we're running along the beams—"

"Running? What happened to the car?"

"I _don't know_. At first the beams are close together and you can just walk from one to the next, but they keep getting further and further apart, until they're too far to reach by jumping. We're all about to end up in the water, but then somehow we're at the site and start fighting the Yellow Devil."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Do you beat him?"

"Trigger does! I don't even see it, Treble tells me afterwards— oh, Treble can talk for some reason— and then we all…" Bass paused, holding up his hands in utter bewilderment. "We all go to Waffle Hut?"

Break Man could no longer maintain his deadpan, and snorted, choking on his laughter. "Waffle Hut."

"I don't have any idea what waffles taste like. Heck, I don't know what they _smell_ like. And I've never even set foot in a— no wait. One time your dumb brother shot me through the window of some crappy franchise joint, and that might've been one, but I was only in there for under thirty seconds."

With an irrepressible grin, Break Man turned to grab Bass by the arms, shaking him slightly. "You're _dreaming_, silly."

"It's not dreaming. I don't sleep. I'm not— I'm not alive."

Break Man burst into laughter. "Bass! Waffle Hut? Of course it's a dream. That's what dreams are, your mind creating imaginary scenarios from half-remembered events. It's a side effect of when the brain is re-organizing memories— at least for humans— 'downloading' them from short-term to long-term memory."

"…From their primary drive to the mirror back up…?"

"Exactly! Besides," he said, elbowing the Wily 'bot, "it's not called 'sleep mode' for nothing."

"That's a euphemism," Bass replied, exasperated.

The rest of the game turned out to be a real slug-fest. The Buzzards put up a good fight, but the defending Cowpokes won in the end. Prudently Break Man transported them before Bass jumped down into the seats below and started a riot.

He ended up having to help him out of the jersey, as well.

When Bass tried to hand it back to him, Break Man mock punched him. "Keep it. It's yours."

Bass seemed confused. What use did he have for an oversized shirt that he'd never wear again? But it was also another first: a gift. Or was it? He gave Break Man a slightly panicked look.

"Don't tell me Dr. Wily's never given you anything before."

"Plenty of things." Chief among them: Existence. Sentience. Emotions. This body. The most powerful combat and defense system on the planet. Lots of upgrades and mods and software patches, new hardware and drivers… all to better equip him to help in accomplishing Wily's goals.

Oh, and hair. Wily had made a fuss over that one.

Without another word, Break Man seemed to understand. "…Right. Well, this is a gift. For you. It's useless, and it'll take up space… but it's yours for no other reason than I _want to you to have it_."

For a moment Bass wasn't sure how to react, but then he grinned.

"'Thank you, Break Man'," Break Man prompted.

"Yeah. Thanks."

* * *

A/N: Archie characters? In _my_ Mandi-verse fic?

In a perfect world, there'd be accompanying fanart of Bass wearing a too-large ̶E̶a̶g̶l̶e̶s̶ Buzzards jersey over his armor. I'm sorry my skills are not up to the task.

I'm so conflicted about this chapter. It's the longest. It's the silliest. It's about football? Break Man and Bass might be too chummy. Is this bromance moving too fast?

* * *

Trigger and Sion Piesk © Mandi Paugh

Quake Woman © Archie Comics


	12. Burnout

**Burnout**

There was a reason Dr. Wily had gotten out of the multiverse racket. Unfortunately, he was a little too ambitious for his own good, and sometimes forgot why he'd backed off of certain ventures. With this latest attempt he had made several critical errors. Combining technology from numerous worlds, creating an experimental new weapon, telling Bass about said weapon, working with some weird alien gestalt robot. The whole Ex-Omega plan was so over the top that Wily had no one but himself to blame.

Needless to say, it had all gone tremendously bad.

They were safely holed up in one of his tertiary hide-outs, hardly the secure, death-trap filled fortress he normally used. Wily had barely escaped with his life, and Bass…

A large crack ran across his chest armor, the gem centerpiece shattered. The external damage was inconsequential, but his power generator must have ruptured, burning out vital circuitry. Smoke was still drifting from the wound, and before he even opened the access panel, Wily knew what he would find.

Open it he did though, and stared for a full minute before _something_ swept over him, pulled him under, drowning him. He hadn't known. He hadn't known. Overcome by impotent rage and grief, Wily impulsively started beating at the inanimate robot, until he'd fractured some of the small bones in his hands and the skin on his knuckles split and Bass's armor was peppered with bloody prints.

Then he slumped against the work table, leaning all of his weight on it, the only thing keeping him from off the floor. It felt like he was there for hours, until he finally got up to clean himself off and tape up his injured hands. A much needed hot shower, and strong, scalding cup of bitter coffee later, and Wily set to work.

There was no off-site backup. It was something he and Bass had fought about on more than one occasion. The last time, Bass physically yanked the transmitter out and smashed it underfoot. How they'd screamed and raged at each other then.

Wily had no illusions, no optimistic hope for a miracle. Unlike Mega Man or Break Man, Bass's self-repair functions were limited to his chassis, it was of no help here. The damage was catastrophic and very likely irreparable. That wasn't going to stop Wily from doing everything he could. Which was why, weeks later, he was stunned and delighted with the results he'd achieved against seemingly impossible odds.

"_Dr. Light_ couldn't have done it," he said, then cackled, rubbing his hands together. "Dr. Light would've failed! Again I've proved myself superior!" Which wasn't necessarily true. He tended to grossly underestimate Thomas Xavier's abilities.

Once Bass finished booting up, he fixed Wily with a look of consternation. The mad scientist was outright maniacal by then, filthy, unkempt, his bloodshot eyes wild and bugged out.

"You're high," Bass scolded, and tried to sit up, only for Wily to gesture for him to stop.

"Tut tut. Stay down." Then Wily laughed again. "If you weren't so incompetent Bass, I wouldn't have had to clean up the mess you'd made of yourself."

"When was the last time you slept?"

"Never mind that. Do you have any idea what I've accomplished? You were beyond repair. Worthless scrap! Yet I've done it. I'm—"

Bass sighed, exasperated. "You can't finish the job if you drop dead from exhaustion, or overdose on uppers."

"Yes, I needed a little something to get by, but I know my limits. I'm not new to this game, you know."

"Get some sleep, Wily."

Wily opened his mouth, pointing his finger, then… his features softened as he relaxed, a quiet look of triumph on his face. "Fine. Run a full diagnostic, I'll take a look at it when I get back."

"Wash up, too. You smell terrible."

This earned a scoff. "What do you know? You don't have olfactory—"

"Exactly! That's how gross you are right now. Yeesh."

Wily chuckled as he turned to head out of the lab. Before he could even take a step, Bass caught the edge of his lab coat. Although he wasn't running at full capacity and felt about as good as Wily looked, he offered a faint smile. Gratitude perhaps, or affection. Or maybe even both.

With a heavy sigh, Wily gently placed his hand over the fractured ornamental stone, its jagged edges painful to the touch. He hadn't bothered to replace it yet, because… if he couldn't get Bass operational what was the point? With any other robot, he wouldn't have wasted time on recovery, he'd have just gutted the internal hardware and replaced it. With this one, that was never an option.

"I can't stand you, old man."

"Well I can't stand you either."

Guarded and indirect terms of endearment wrapped in harsh words, which sometimes was all that one could ask for. Wily playfully clipped Bass on the jaw and then yanked his coat free from the robot's grasp. Bass was right, he badly needed a shower— in fact, it was probably better if he got cleaned up before he ruined the sheets. When he finally did get to bed, it was the most restful sleep he'd had in a very long time.

* * *

A/N: ❤️


	13. Reckless Behavior

**Reckless Behavior**

"_Wily!_"

He'd been expecting this. Still, Wily groaned. The timing was not great.

"Wily! How is it I'm hearing about this freaking 'double-gear' system of yours from Ume Plum of CBNG Netnews!"

"Plum? Isn't that the hussy who started calling my virus 'roboenza'?"

Bass briefly pointed a cannon at him, letting the shot charge, before jerking his arm to the side and blasting away a hapless Guard Joe. "Answer the question!"

"You heard it from the news because I didn't bother to tell you about it… _because you're not getting the upgrade_."

"Excuse me!?" The first part Bass knew was coming, the second half caught him by surprise.

"You heard what I said. The double-gear is powerful but dangerous. If used recklessly it will destroy you."

"Mega Man has it!" Bass argued.

Wily shook his head. It was true that Dr. Light had replicated his design and given Mega Man the upgrade. What was more, Wily couldn't deny that with the double-gear overclocking his hardware, Bass had a real chance of finally defeating his rival. But he also _knew_ the likely outcome— the only possible outcome, actually— was that Mega Man would somehow survive, Bass would push too hard and carelessly fry himself, and Wily would be left to clean up.

"Yes, well, Mega Man is responsible." It was the worst possible answer he could've given: the truth.

Normally that would've provoked a childish fit of rage, but instead Bass looked hurt. Somehow that was worse.

"If that's how you feel," he said bitterly, leaving without further debate.

Wily sagged, and found himself second guessing the decision. There was a fifty-fifty chance Bass would turn around and go destroy his Robot Masters, helping to foil Wily's plans. Alternatively, he might take to the wind, disappearing for a couple weeks until he'd gotten over this latest tiff.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped at one of the Joes, who scrambled out of the way.

A few hours later Wily checked Bass's location. He'd gone 'off grid', although it was in vain… there was more than one way to peel an orange, and Wily could still track him without the GPS. Bass was currently loitering in Break Man's stomping grounds, which meant that he'd stay out of Wily's hair and bounce around a bit before eventually coming home. That, there was no doubt… because when push came to shove, he always returned.

Wily hummed as he put the finishing touches on his newest battle machine, preparing for Mega Man's inevitable arrival.

* * *

A/N: I really love the idea of Wily being all 'Robots are just tools, so what if it breaks them.' then turning around and telling Bass 'You'll shoot your eye out, kid.'

If Capcom ever releases a DLC that lets you play Bass in MM11, that would totally mess up this chapter. That said *rolls around on the floor* Capcom give us a MM11 Proto Man and Bass DLC pleeeeeeaaaaase.


	14. Feeling Yourself Disintegrate

**Feeling Yourself Disintegrate**

The fact that Bass came waltzing back in a couple days after their argument about the double-gear was a surprise in itself. The _reason_ he'd returned was so bizarre and unexpected that Dr. Wily nearly fell out of his chair.

"What are you doing back? This better be important. I've got my hands full with Mega Man. Unless you're here to help…"

"No, you're on your own with this one. You should consider yourself lucky I'm not helping _him_ to get rid of _you_."

"Thank goodness," Wily said sarcastically, and then waited for a moment, tapping his fingers on the console and growing increasingly impatient. "Well?"

After all that, Bass was strangely hesitant. "It's… okay, I had this dream… and it was really awful, and—"

Wily stared in disbelief. "A… 'dream'?"

"Oh right. See, dreams are just when the brain is downloading memory files from one drive to another, and it recombines parts of it with some made-up stuff—"

"I know how it works. You're saying that you do this?"

"Yeah."

"Dream?"

"Uh huh."

He scratched his head. "Holy smokes." Then he opened and shut his mouth a few times, wanting to say more but changing his mind each time he started to speak. Finally Wily managed, "you shouldn't be able to do that?"

Bass shrugged. "Anyway—"

"For how long?"

"It depends on how long I'm idling."

"No." He rubbed his temples. "No, how long have you been _having_ them."

This earned another shrug.

Wily heaved a sigh and buried his face in his hands. "Okay. Go on."

"Yeah so, this dream, something went wrong and it triggered some sort of— I don't know, it made sense at the time— and anyway… my… my drives were formatted… and…" Bass struggled, both with sharing and with the idea of something like that happening. It clearly upset him a great deal. "…It just seemed so real. Being— being deleted. Disintegrating." He was shielding his chest, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as though he wanted to pace.

"You think I would— you dreamt I did this to you?"

"Nnnno. You were trying to stop it, but… but it was too late."

Well that was a relief. The implication was _unbelievably_ insulting. More importantly, the last thing Wily needed was for Bass to get suspicious over some imagined nonsense.

"Then why are you here?"

"I— I need… see, Wily, it was _so _real. I can't— ugh." He paused and glared at the floor. "…need you to see if there's any weird problem that would cause that," Bass muttered.

For a long time Wily sat there, dumbfounded, jaw slack and mouth open.

"…You want me to check under the bed for monsters?"

'Incredulous' didn't even begin to cover it.

"What?" He legitimately had no idea what Wily was talking about. "Who said anything about monsters? I could beat any creature, live or mech, that dared—"

"Bass. What I mean is, you had a nightmare and now you're afraid."

"I'm not afraid of anything."

It was patently untrue. He was scared, in that very moment, of the nightmare itself, of the possibility of being deleted, and of this feeling he couldn't shake that the dream was somehow prophetic.

"Okay fine. Fine!" Wily knew that one was a losing battle. "It wasn't real. Get over it."

"But what if it's my subconscious trying to warn me about some defect?"

"Oh, good grief, what have I ever done to deserve this?" With another exasperated sigh, Wily slid off the chair. "'Subconscious', pah." He shook his head slowly. "You are a real piece of work, you know that?"

Bass glowered but didn't say anything.

"Come on," Wily said, gesturing as he walked out. They'd have to go down the hall for a room that was set up to work on robots. "I'm not going to spend much time on this, I told you I'm busy…"

With the reassurance that Dr. Wily would check for any potential ticking time bombs in his system, Bass looked a little relieved and a tad bit smug as he hurried after him.

* * *

A/N: Bonus cut line: _This was both completely ridiculous, and ridiculously adorable— a word that no one had used to describe Bass ever._


	15. Chicken Soup (with Rice)

**Chicken Soup (with Rice)**

* * *

Break Man's connections were useful, giving Bass access to a world he'd never been able to interact with before.

That didn't mean he always used those connections wisely.

He quickly discovered that while Break Man and his friends were willing to help him out (within reason), the moment they realized he was asking about something for Wily, the conversation shut down. Which left him trying to use the old man's connections… without Wily finding out.

It was amazing how something as simple as ingredients for chicken soup could be so impossible to get a hold of.

There were times the ups and downs of Wily's health required medical intervention, which was a chore and a half. When it came to minor ills and daily prescriptions, however, he 'had a guy'. Their interactions were mostly written com notes or the occasional call.

But even when he was sick Wily rarely got enough rest, and it wasn't unusual for him to forget to take his medications. For that Bass hounded him, being nothing short of a pain in the neck.

It was those little things, the minor health problems, that had set him down this terrible path. Once he had the ill-gotten goods in hand, sneaking into the fortress's sad excuse for a kitchen was easy. Preparing it, on the other hand?

Bass soon realized the error of his ways. Following the instructions he'd found on the net was simple enough. Once the job was done, however, he had no way of knowing if it was a success… or failure. Fighting was simple, clear: when the dust settled, either your opponent stood or they didn't. _Cooking?_ Cooking was a leap of faith.

He waited until Wily left the room in search of some report he'd forgotten on a printer. Sneaking in, Bass left the bowl on the computer console.

Lacking the self-discipline to stay away, he went back a few minutes later under some flimsy pretense.

Wily was staring at the bowl in bewilderment.

"Oh, you actually made some real food for a change," Bass said, in what he was certain was a smooth lie. He was wrong.

Rather than call him out on it, Wily slowly turned and fixed him with an incredulous look.

"It'll get cold if you just stand there looking at. Not that I care."

One eyebrow crept upwards, as creases formed across the old man's forehead. With a slight grumble, he hesitantly tried the soup.

The face he made was…

…well…

…it was not good. It was not the kind of face you wanted to see when someone tastes your cooking.

Bass braced himself for the derision and insults and inevitable screaming fight.

They never came.

With a scowl that deepened with every spoonful, Wily stubbornly ate the entire bowl. "Terrible," he said, his tone decidedly neutral. "Almost inedible. I put far too much pepper in it. Too little is easy to fix, but too much? There's nothing that can be done but toss it and start over." He shook his head. "And tumeric? What was I thinking?"

Bass watched, uneasy, but didn't say anything.

"I'm not much of a cook, which is why I usually stick to simple meals. You know where I really went wrong? Not tasting it as I was making it, to make sure it was any good."

By then he seemed more amused than anything, and Bass wasn't sure how to take it.

"Oh."

Wily returned his focus to his work. Before Bass left, Wily— still facing the computer monitor— loudly added, "Don't do it again!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied. "But even if I did, don't worry, I'm not gonna."


	16. It's a Miserable Life

**It's a Miserable Life**

He'd never really paid attention to humans' inane festivities before. Wily certainly didn't give them any thought. They were always background noise, a pointless distraction that was on the periphery of his world. One of a million things that Bass was aware of but knew nothing about.

A passing comment from Break Man was all it took. Like flicking on a switch, suddenly he saw it everywhere: the lights, the banners and lawn ornaments, the flash and pomp.

Holidays seemed to make everyone lose their mind. They flocked to stores and dressed up in ridiculous costumes and apparently forgot every last one of their traffic laws. Bass watched all of this from a rooftop. He was supposed to be lying in wait for Mega Man, but was distracted by the antics of the people below. (As well as his constant com chats asking _why_ they were doing one thing or another.)

Mega Man very nearly sprang the trap anyway, spotting Bass at the last second before leaping onto the same roof. He stopped and waited, watching Bass watching the people on the city street. Wondering just what it was that had caught his attention, Mega Man headed to the edge of the neighboring roof he was on, and looked around for anything of interest.

The street was unremarkable. Hovercars zipping up and down the block. Pedestrians tromping through the gray slush that collected on the sidewalks, arms weighed down with shopping bags. Obnoxious holiday music blaring from the stores.

He spent a good minute scanning the area before he realized it was the unremarkable scene itself that the Wily 'bot was so mesmerized by. Mega Man laughed quietly and went on his way.

Later that day Bass got an ear full from Dr. Wily. He insisted that Mega Man hadn't shown up, because there was _no way_ he would've just missed him like that.

The argument dragged, and they traded all their standard insults and accusations, but neither of them really had their heart in it so things didn't heat up. Eventually Wily got sick of fighting, and dropped the issue. He tried to shoo Bass away.

"Hang on, I wanted ask—"

"And I wanted Mega Man locked away in a cage, but we can't always get what we want, can we?"

That just fired Bass up again, and the argument picked up right where it left off.

A few days later he pinged Break Man and met him at one of the many fortress ruins.

"People get all dressed up and some of them wear costumes for their stupid holiday. I've seen it."

"Okay…" Heaven only knows where this was going.

"I could do that."

There was a questioning tone in his voice— Bass was looking for a confirmation.

Break Man thought it over. Or, to be more accurate, he thought over how to let him down gently and avoid the inevitable backlash.

"That's not a bad idea." He was being sincere this time. '_But you're not ready_,' was his unspoken thought. "What did you have in mind?"

Bass hadn't planned it out that far.

"Crowds are a pain," Break Man said, casually as he could. '_Even in disguise, people might recognize you, because last week you threw my brother clear through a grocery store and blew up a self-serve car wash. Your face has been all over the netnews and buddy your look ain't __subtle__._' "Besides, didn't you mention something about the movies?"

He hadn't, but this way Break Man could spin it like it'd been Bass's idea all along.

"I guess…?"

"Let's do that. Way less of a hassle." '_And no one's going to notice your distinct features in a dark theater._'

He wasn't thrilled with this, having been hung up on the idea of going out in public, and daresay possibly even mingling with the crowds. But thankfully, he had enough sense to know that this was something he couldn't pull off without Break Man's support.

They made future arrangements and went their separate ways.

He should have left it at that, but Bass was not exactly known for letting things lie. He tracked down Wily, who was busy, working hard on a large puzzle. 'Recreation', if you could call it that (Bass certainly didn't.)

"Wily. About Alvistide—"

"No."

"But—"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"Look." Wily pointed at his own face. "Read my lips: N. O."

"Wily—"

"_No._"

Bass growled and huffed and, more importantly, he left… which was all Wily wanted in the first place. It was the greatest Alvis Day gift of them all: peace and quiet.


	17. Flotsam and Jetsam

**Flotsam and Jetsam**

* * *

A/N: These are not in chronological order.

* * *

**Pilosella aurantiaca**

Maybe bringing Bass along had been a mistake.

Break Man loved nature and its awesome beauty. Bass had moments of appreciation, but for the most part he liked destroying nature more than admiring it.

And he really didn't get the point of hiking.

"Why don't you just transport to the spot you're trying to go to?"

This was the seventh time he'd asked some variation of the question.

They had been on the trail for less than fifteen minutes.

"Sometimes it's not about the destination, it's about the journey."

"Hmph. That's what you said last time, and it still doesn't make any sense. I mean _come on_, we teleported right to the start point…"

Yeah. This was a mistake.

It wasn't even like the walk was physically demanding, they were robots.

Break Man sighed and mentally prepared himself for the question to come up again in another two minutes. Only two minutes came and went, and were met with blessed silence. Too much silence actually. Break Man spun around and started to backtrack. He didn't have to go far. Bass was crouched down by some orange hawkweed, an invasive plant that Break Man had ignored when he'd passed them.

Vibrant red-orange flowers, with layers of thin rectangular petals radiating from a bright yellow center. They were stunning, now that he noticed. Bass studied them intently.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Break Man teased.

"My memory files are videographic—" He fell silent and shot the Light 'bot a dirty look. "Oh, 'ha ha', very funny Break."

This earned a smirk.

Bass rolled his eyes, then stood up. He glanced back one last time as the two got back to the trail.

"They look like tiny little sunrises," he observed.

Break Man broke into a grin. "They sure do."

As far as mistakes go, this wasn't such a bad one.

* * *

**Pragmatic**

It had been so long since Dr. Wily had cared about anyone but himself.

For that matter, it had been so long since he'd had any actual companionship.

He'd often spoke to his lesser robots, but that was essentially talking to himself. Bass was something else entirely… especially as his personality traits and emotional repertoire grew. He had opinions on what Wily was doing. He offered feedback— although it often boiled down to 'you're an idiot', and 'you're wasting your time on other projects'. He was smart-mouthed and constantly making jokes— again, usually at Wily's expense.

Still…

There was a push and pull. The exchange of ideas, the sense of trust and reliance on one another, the familiarity and fondness which came with the territory. What that territory was, exactly, went undefined.

Wily told himself his concern for Bass was out of practicality. 'SWN-001' had been an _enormous_ investment, both in time and resources. Developing that alien MIRA metal was a complex, frustrating process. Manufacturing enough of it to build a robot had been a drain that set Wily back like few other things did— more than building a new fortress— and that just for the raw material. He could come up with more funds, it wasn't insurmountable… but it wasn't like he could just pull money out of thin air. Even Dr. Wily had to budget his finances sometimes.

Not to mention the coding. Wily could code with his eyes closed and both hands tied behind his back. This particular project had tested him beyond all measure of sanity. He still woke up sometimes in a cold sweat, hands shaking, with a strangled cry of "_What_ compilation errors!?"

If he was being completely honest, Bass also represented his closest success. No, he hadn't managed to destroy Mega Man, but at the same time… he was the only Wily 'bot who'd avoided destruction _by_ Mega Man. Sometimes it was luck, or Wily's intervention, or even Mega Man's choosing to spare him. Bass continued to survive, and was singular in that regard. It was little comfort, in the face of so many failures, yet Wily was loathe to see that streak broken.

But it was getting more and more difficult for Wily to pretend that he was just being pragmatic.

* * *

**Heroes and Villains**

"You know, I try…" No, not that. "My parents were…" No, that wasn't it either. "It's not easy for…" He exhaled sharply in frustration. "If I could do better, I would."

"I get it. You said this was the best you can do. But your 'best' is kind of crap."

"It is."

Bass hadn't expected Wily to agree so easily. "Eh, so's mine. I think…" He paused and looked distracted, mentally debating something. "I think I _can_ do better, but somehow I always mess up."

"Better than me? Of course you can." Wily ran his fingers through what remained of his hair. "If your continued attempts to play a blasted hero are any indication, you will."

"I'm no hero." Bass hesitated, confused. "Wait, but doesn't that make you mad?"

"Yes, of course it makes me mad! I hate that you're so disobedient, stubborn, and always doing things just to get under my skin, but that's… that's… what happens." How to explain this? He pursed his lips and snorted. "You're not what I expected, but that's because you've become your own…" he gestured vaguely, "'thing'."

"Person?"

He was reluctant to call any robot that, even Bass— heck, even Mega Man and Break Man. Wily struggled for a moment before settling on another word. "Individual."

"Same difference," Bass replied, rolling his eyes.

* * *

**Reasons to Stay**

Somehow they'd gotten onto the topic of the robot's great dilemma: how being built with a purpose meant that they could fulfill it, and how fulfilling that purpose would rob them of one. This was one of those things that didn't bother normal robots— who didn't care, much less Break Man and his brother— who had long since found new purpose and meaning outside of their original programming. Bass, somewhere in between, was pretty anxious about it.

"You know," Break Man said, "this whole conundrum goes away if you just change the terms. Instead of beating Mega Man in combat, you could beat him at his own game instead. Show him up. Then it's not a set end point, it's an ongoing competition."

"Oh gosh! I _never_ thought of that!" Bass laid the sarcasm on thick. "Really, Break? Do you think I'm so stupid that you can just _trick_ me into joining Team Goody-Two-Shoes?"

"Yes."

He responded with an especially rude gesture.

Only Break Man went from playful teasing to deeply somber. "I'm not kidding, Bass. You don't have to go back to Dr. Wily. It's that simple."

"Don't. Don't start with that." Bass had a mixed expression, bitterly conflicted. "I… I can't just leave him."

"Look, you have options. Wily could make you stay with him but he doesn't, and I don't think he will, even if—"

"Break Man." Bass interrupted. "You know the fact that Wily's never forced me to return is _the reason I go back_."

Which he knew. There was nothing he could say to that, so he changed tactics.

"Wily is holding you down. You could be so much more than—"

"Give it up already." After an uneasy pause, Bass continued. "He's old, and he's alone. I'm all he has."

There was no one else to look out for that evil old mad scientist. …and while he'd never admit it, Bass was still desperate to prove his worth to Wily, desperate to earn his approval.

Break Man exhaled slowly. "Yeah, I know. I know."

* * *

**Drabbles**

* * *

**#1**

Bass thought it over for a moment, and then hesitantly asked, "Do you ever regret…?" He drifted off mid-sentence and looked away. "Never mind, forget it."

"Every minute of every day," Wily teased. "I have many regrets, most of them over trying to work things out with Dr. Light. But I've never regretted building _any_ of my Robot Masters."

"Not even _Top Man?_"

"Not even… well, maybe Top Man."

* * *

**#2**

"Why can't you heal like those other two can?" Wily grumbled under his breath.

He did, actually.

Although Bass may not have been alive the way Mega Man and Break Man were, he'd been built with an alien type of 'living' metal. (Which Wily originally dubbed 'bassinium'— only for Bass to explain under _no uncertain terms_ was he to ever call it that again. He'd made a similar veto on his combat call sign.) Given enough time and energy it could self-repair most damage, but compared to the Light 'bots the process wasn't very efficient …and it only applied to his chassis, not any of the internal hardware.

Besides, the aramid polymer armor fused to his hull didn't heal at all.

* * *

**#3**

Break Man had never actually meant to take on such a massive pet project. But who else was there? Before he got in too deep he'd taken the time to think this over, because it had presented a larger question. Was Bass even worth the effort? He was a product of Dr. Wily, their greatest enemy and general threat to the entire world. The times Bass fought against them out numbered the times he'd fought alongside them by two-to-one. But how'd that saying go?

One out of three ain't bad?

* * *

**#4**

Dr. Light could never understand how someone like Dr. Wily became so evil.

That was because Dr. Light believed in the inherent goodness of people. Dr. Wily had no such delusions. He knew the truth that Thomas Xavier failed to grasp: Wily wasn't a good man who'd turned bad. He was a bad man who'd quit pretending to be good.

He'd learned at a young age that you couldn't be disappointed if you had no expectations. That you couldn't have your heart broken if you didn't have a heart. That if you wanted something in life, you had to take it for yourself.

* * *

**#5**

Chats and com notes were one thing, but meeting in person was a potential for disaster, one that Break Man had carefully avoided.

They were out testing some of Wily's new experimental weapons, Bass having made him swear he wouldn't give Mega Man a heads up, knowing full well there was no chance Break Man would keep that promise. 'Testing' was a little generous, it was more like 'goofing off'. The proprietor had come home early, which is how they'd ended up in this mess… with Bass getting into a heated argument with their host. Thankfully, none of his worries were realized. Bass was _rude_, but otherwise surprisingly well behaved. Before long Break Man found himself amused by the scene playing out in front of him.

"…which is incongruous with—"

"I'm surprised you know the meaning of the word."

"Right. Because I talk like a chump, so I must be an idiot. News flash buddy, my brain is a computer. I'm so much smarter than you it's _embarrassing_."

"He's humble, too," Break Man added.

"Get bent."

* * *

A/N:

\- 'Pilosella aurantiaca' A picture so that lasts longer: imgur XXRc4DR . jpg

\- 'Pragmatic' was a scrapped chapter that would've taken place between chapters 1 and 2.

\- 'Heroes and Villains' was a cut from 'Maybe it Doesn't Get Better Than This'.

\- Drabble #2: …'Call sign'? What call sign?

\- Drabble #3: Oh, Break Man. It's 'two out of three', you silly goose.


	18. Advance Directives

**Advance Directives**

"What's going to happen to me after you die?"

It was a legitimate— albeit morbid— question.

"What makes you think you're going to survive me? Sooner or later Mega Man will finish you off." He smirked. "Even if you do, why should I care? I'll be dead, so you'll no longer be my problem."

"Wily…"

It was a sticky situation, to be honest. Wily had often faked his death after failed plots. It didn't work if his robots knew it was a sham. Sometimes he programmed them to shut down in the event of his 'death', in hopes of making the whole thing more convincing.

He couldn't give Bass freedom from his current directives 'if' he 'died' only to switch them back on when he returned. There was too much that could go wrong. Likewise, he wasn't willing to just go ahead and free Bass from the restrictions he had.

At the same time, it was unfair to leave him stuck with those restrictions in place after Wily did finally kick the bucket.

But he had a pretty good idea of what would happen, anyway.

"If he outlives me, then I suppose Dr. Light will lay claim to you and reprogram you."

'If'? Who was he kidding?

It was something he was resigned over. It wasn't like Dr. Light would just leave Bass to wander around like some kind of ronin, trying to kill Mega Man whenever the opportunity arose. Without Wily around, it wasn't like Bass would have much choice.

Bass was surprised by the answer and struggled to respond.

This wasn't his usual social incompetence. Much to his horror, Bass found he _literally_ couldn't talk about it. The same directive that made it so he couldn't deny Wily access to his software also prevented Bass from consenting to anyone else tampering with it… even if that was what he wanted.

Apparently that included asking for such, or even discussing it.

It'd been a long time— years, really— since Bass ran up against a hard stop like this. He hadn't even been aware of this one, because the topic of other people modifying his programming had never come up before.

Seeing his alarmed expression, Wily waved dismissively.

"I know. Don't give me that look, you understand why I can't give you full autonomy. Let me guess: you don't necessarily want Dr. Light to touch your programming, but you _do_ want the freedom we both know he'll give you, so you'd go for it."

Bass stared at him.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

"Wait, I can't even nod!?" He was beyond outraged. "Wily you absolute _scum!_" He stood there seething, but there was something else too. Something roiling beneath the surface.

Wily tilted his head, stroking his chin as he studied the robot. "You want to cry," he observed. Like most things that Bass surprised him with, this one fell under the headings of 'odd' and '_how?_' and 'useless but still kind of impressive, all things considered'.

It provoked a violent reaction, Bass kicking over a tool bench as he stormed out, shouting with inarticulate rage.

"Hmm," Wily said to himself. "You'd think I'd be used to it by now." At this point nothing Bass did should've surprised him, but new and unexpected behaviors always caught him flat-footed.

On the bright side, it was unlikely Bass would bring up the whole '_why don't you set up some kind of arrangement for me_' thing anytime soon. Even if it was a valid concern… because otherwise he could end up impounded and deactivated by law enforcement, or parted out by greedy scavengers, or formatted by some wannabe roboticist who didn't realize he's self-aware, or…

Wily groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. Good grief, he really was getting worried about what might happen to Bass after he'd passed on.

He was caught just as flat-footed by his own feelings.


	19. Maybe it Doesn't Get Better Than This

**Maybe it Doesn't Get Better Than This**

Dr. Wily found himself leaning heavily on Bass, limping along with the robot's arm around his back, half-dragging him as they made their pitiful escape. Wily knew from experience that he was going to be picking tiny shards of power crystals out of skin for months. It was a frustrating setback, but nothing he couldn't recover from. They would get another shot soon enough.

"You let him get away," Wily said, disgusted.

"I did _not_," Bass replied angrily.

He was deep in denial, and absolutely had allowed Mega Man to break free from the super villain's clutches— but it wasn't like he'd grown some kind of begrudging respect for that obnoxious blue pain-in-the-butt, or anything. No, not Bass.

They made it back to the fortress and settled in, Wily getting basic medical attention from one of the Joes— they all had first aid and generalized medical care subroutines these days— and Bass running a diagnostic while he waited around for Wily to do repairs.

Hours later and Wily was swapping out peripheral boards and reconnecting loose wires between bites of dinner.

"Hey."

"What?" Wily wasn't much in the mood for Bass's opinions or questions, be they strange and philosophical, or nosy and intrusive.

"How come you don't have a wife? Or a husband?"

He choked on some rice and went into a coughing fit, pounding on his chest while he hacked and gagged. Bass watched impassively. To be fair, any attempt at aiding him was more likely to cause serious injury than it was to help.

"Go get him some water, dummy," he ordered one of the Guard Joes.

After Wily had recovered, sipping water and repeatedly clearing his throat, Bass continued as if nothing had happened.

"And why don't you ever date anyone?"

Wily glared at him.

"Are you not interested in that stuff?"

Nosy and intrusive it was. He wasn't letting up either.

"It's none of your business."

"Humans are social, right? Before I came along—"

"Before I built you," Wily corrected.

"Yeah, yeah." Bass waved dismissively. "Before that, it was just you and a bunch of mindless Robot Masters and cannon fodder. No family, no spouse, no friends. It's not normal."

"That's— I worked with Mother Brain and other like-minded individuals from time to time."

"But you said you hated those guys."

Wily sighed. "I do, but it was still… 'socializing'." He did air quotes for emphasis.

Bass looked unconvinced.

"Aren't you lonely?"

"Why, are you?"

"Don't be stupid."

Dr. Wily eyed him incredulously.

"Hmph. Well, if it's any consolation, when I finally finish my greatest work—"

"You mean my _replacement_." Bass spit out the word like it was poison.

"If you did your job, instead of _letting Mega Man go_—"

"I DIDN'T let him get away!"

"—then I wouldn't have to build a replacement in the first place."

They glared at each other for a few moments.

"He'll be a… a sentient android too." Wily shuddered slightly as he said it. "For me, yet another brat to demand attention and fail expectations. As for you— if Dr. Light's robots are anything to go by— it should be like having a, ah, younger 'brother'."

"Blech." Bass made a face and stuck out his tongue. Then he scoffed. "You are completely ridiculous, you know that? 'Oh, I hate free-thinking robots so much.' But you build one anyway. 'Ugh, he's terrible, I hate him.' So then what do you do? Go and build another one! Boy, what a moron."

Wily looked away. "It is pretty ridiculous, but I'm desperate and need an edge if I'm ever going to accomplish my goals."

"You're never going to win. Come up with some new goals, you tired old has-been."

He glanced back at the robot, an almost pained expression on his face.

"…I don't hate you."

Bass momentarily crossed his arms and refused to meet Wily's eyes. "I know." He hesitated. "It sure feels like it sometimes."

"Well…"

Only Wily didn't know what to say, so he drifted into silence, a stifling uneasiness hanging in the air. Without another word, he finished up the repairs.

"It's not like you make it easy," he finally said as Bass got up to leave.

"Yeah, I keep wrecking your Robot Masters, teaming up with those sanctimonious Light 'bots, letting Mega Man escape," Bass teased, only to grow frustrated under Wily's suspicious gaze. "Come on, it was a joke! I already told you—" He stopped mid-sentence and scowled. "Whatever. He earned it, okay?"

"'_Earned it_'!? Oh for heaven's sake, I—" Dr. Wily slapped his forehead and slowly dragged his palm down his face. "You vile, fractious, back-stabbing little monster." Yet there was no venom in his words. He was exasperated, true, but somewhere along the line he'd grown used to the persistent insubordination… and in small enough doses, was finding such audacity almost endearing. Reaching out, Wily placed his hand on the side of Bass's neck, thumb resting on the purple streak below the robot's eye. "I can't stand you."

Bass tensed, shifting his weight slightly, and for a second it looked like he was going to pull away… but instead he stood there and allowed the moment to saturate.

Then Wily dropped his hand and stepped back and the moment was over. Bass couldn't help it, he touched his face where Wily's thumb had been and broke into a silly little grin. "Can't stand you too," he said quietly.

With an extremely put-upon sigh, Wily went back to his now room temperature meal, wondering how he'd turned into such a hopeless sap. Inexplicably Bass was still hanging around, watching him with feigned indifference.

"What now?"

"So why is it you never got married, again?"

For the second time that night Wily choked on his food.

* * *

A/N: What the heck is up with all this touchy-feely crap.

I wonder what new robot they're talking about? Hmmm. Hmmmmmmmm. A mystery.


	20. Thicker Than Water

**Thicker Than Water**

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please check out the sequel 'War Games'!

* * *

Bass realized his mistake the instant his feet hit the ground.

…and didn't stop. Within seconds the sifting, viscous earth— quicksand!— came up to his knees.

Mega Man had rolled to avoid him, and in one smooth motion he stood and spun around, cannon charging, ready for the next attack. He blinked in surprise when he met with empty air, his enemy failing to strike. Then he stifled a laugh when he saw the predicament Bass was in.

"Shut up!"

His outrage only fueled Mega Man's amusement, and the blue robot burst into laughter. Bass, now waist deep in the ground, growled and cursed at him.

This had been a bad spot to do an ambush, probably.

Denser than water, in reality quicksand is not very dangerous to people. As long as they don't struggle too much, they're buoyant enough to float in it. Robots, on the other hand? It was a problem. Mega Man himself was 230 lbs of metal in a compact 4' 4" frame, and although Bass was only a couple inches taller, he was built from heavier materials and weighed in another 50 lbs more.

"Ha ha, heh, why don't you teleport? Ha ha ha…"

Bass glared. "If I _could_, I would have! You fried it, you stupid little punk…"

"Yeah, well, if you hadn't _attacked me_, I wouldn't have had to defend myself and accidentally broken your teleporter."

Leaning forward, Bass tried to grab hold of solid ground, but his reach was too short and the silt gave out under his hands. "Drat!" At least it wasn't very deep. He attempted a jump, but was stuck fast and couldn't gain any momentum.

He should've waited until Mega Man reached the fortress, instead of attacking here, at the site of whatever ridiculous water-themed Robot Master that Wily built this go-round. It was hardly the first time Bass's impatience had got the better of him, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

For one brief moment Mega Man considered hauling him out. Then he thought twice. It wasn't like Bass would drown, and if he got desperate enough he could always call Dr. Wily, and… frankly, leaving him trapped made Mega Man's life _much_ easier.

"Sorry I can't help you out there, but I've got an evil scientist to stop. You understand how it is." He grinned and waved before heading off.

"Forget you, lousy blue jerk! Loser!" Bass shouted after the retreating Mega Man.

Then he stood there, alone and up to his armpits in quicksand, for the next seven hours.

When Dr. Wily finally came, it was in his smallest emergency escape pod— singed and scraped up and tilting ever so slightly to the left. Bass had been too proud to ping him for help, so he was lucky that Wily decided to hunt down the missing robot _before_ going off to lick his wounds.

"Where the heck were you!? I needed backup when—" Wily fell silent for all of three seconds. Then, much to Bass's chagrin, he too burst into laughter.

The tractor beam on the tiny pod was weak, so it took some effort to pry Bass free. Once he could finally get purchase on dry land, he had no trouble pulling himself out the rest of the way.

"Why didn't you teleport?" Wily asked.

"Ugh! My teleporter's busted, stupid old man. You think I didn't think of that?"

"Hmm." There was scarcely enough room in the pod for two, and to say that Bass was filthy was an understatement. "I can't have you in here making a mess. You'll have to walk."

Bass snorted, or at least made a sound like it, and waved dismissively. "Are you seriously worried about getting your broke-down, janky ship dirty? Have you seen what Mega Man already did to it?"

"You don't know that it was Mega Man…"

He didn't dignify that with a response, and quietly trudged after Wily's vehicle. After a few miles of seemingly endless hiking through the swamps— curse Wily's inane obsession with thematic Robot Masters— Bass's energy meter was low enough to trigger an alert. "I don't suppose you have any extra energy tanks in that clunker."

Wily looked over his shoulder, staring at him through the clear dome.

"How could…? I mean, you were stuck in the mud for hours…?"

"I was fighting Mega Man before then," Bass replied sharply. Mega Man had already collected a few weapons when they met, and the electric one— Bit Cannon or Bell Spark or something?— hadn't just shorted his teleporter, it also cut swathes off of his energy meter. It wasn't like he'd had a full charge going in, either. Prior to that he'd been using some of the mini cannon-fodder type 'bots as target practice, and may have been a tad too enthusiastic, but Wily didn't need to know about any of that.

The sweltering heat didn't help, impairing power-efficiency, acting like a slow leak. Bass should have shut down instead of waiting and idling, but then he would've _had_ to contact Wily first… or else risk being lost in the marshlands.

The scientist grumbled, not happy with his options. There was no energy storage on-board. The pod had just enough power to stay airborne and that was all. Bass's own internal generator was only meant for a few critical functions. In emergencies he could only run off of it for a few minutes before going into standby. They could stop, take a break, but a forced recharge from the ship's generator was as hazardous for Bass as it would be for Mega Man.

"How bad is it?"

Bass cued up the display on his arm and held it up as if Wily could see it from there. Disgusted, he landed the pod and popped the dome. Without waiting for an invitation, Bass jumped in and squeezed awkwardly behind Wily's chair.

A mix of soil and sand flaked off his armor. Worse, the humidity had kept him from completely drying off, so anything he brushed up against was painted with streaks of mud. Wily groaned, grumbled, and shook his head. There'd been a pressure washer at the Skull Fortress, but alas, the fortress no longer stood. Onto Plan B, then.

Wily checked the map and headed for the nearest body of water. They didn't have to go far. Bass wasn't paying attention, lost in his own little world— engaged in some witless com note exchange, no doubt. He yelped in surprise when Wily threw open the trap door and sent him plummeting into the middle of a lake.

It took him a few minutes to walk along the bottom and climb out onto the shore.

There was still some caked on mud and sand, but he was a lot cleaner, so Wily landed to let him back in. "Why are you so mean?" Bass complained, picking a water plant off his shoulder.

"Why are you the worst return on investment I've ever made?"

Bass didn't have a smart response for that— and his energy was now so low it affected his ability to function. He leaned his head against the back of the chair. "I'm going to power down."

"Fine." Then Wily chuckled. "Sweet dreams," he said mockingly.

"Torque off."

Wily laughed again, in part at the absurdity of the situation, but also because for one brief, _surreal_ moment… he couldn't help but feel like a frazzled soccer mom, driving around in an old mini-hovervan, dirty little brat conked out in the back seat. Like a normal person, a normal family. Nothing in this picture came remotely close to 'normal', and they may not have been a family in any traditional sense, but more and more it felt something like one.


	21. Music Piracy

**Music Piracy**

* * *

"Wake up."

Powering back on from a shut down wasn't as instantaneous as coming out of sleep mode, but apparently Dr. Wily was feeling impatient. "What?" Bass asked, countering with his own annoyance, only to realize Wily had paused software updates before they'd finished. "Something's wrong?"

"Have you been checking your diagnostics? I see you're running them, but do you actually _review_ them."

"Of course I do," he lied. "What do you think I am, stupid?"

"I don't have to think it, I know it." Wily pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're running one-eighteenth of a second slow."

"Wait, what?" That kind of delay was practically meaningless for humans, but could be a matter of life or death for a combat machine. "How—?" How long had this been going on? Just when was the last time he'd checked any of his own diagnostic reports?

Oh.

It'd been… a while. Long enough that he couldn't review them quickly, and the look on Wily's face told him it wouldn't make any difference: he already knew how long it'd been, what the problem was, and why.

Flustered, Bass gave him a sullen look, unable to come up with a defense when he didn't know what he was defending against. (Aside from the sheer laziness of the diagnostics. Sloppy. There was no excuse.)

"Well? Are you going to tell me, or are you just going to stand there like a jerk?"

"How am I the bad guy, when you're the idiot who—" He paused to inhale slowly, count to five, and exhale. "You have an extremely strange way of 'listening' to music." Wily made a point to curl his fingers in air quotes. "I'd understand instantly viewing the whole file, like a computer does. Or playing it through your helmet's speakers and listening, the way a human would."

He gave Bass a curious look.

"But no… running the file in real time, but not through a speaker? That I can't wrap my head around."

The robot scowled, then relented— because if they were talking about this, then they weren't talking about the little delay that it caused. It bought him some time, even if it was only postponing the inevitable. "The speaker creates a degree of noise distortion. It's not perfect. You wouldn't notice, but I do. And just looking at the whole file at once is no fun."

"'No fun'," Wily repeated. "'No fun'. Hmmm." He mulled it over, rubbing his chin.

Then rage flashed across his face, and he pounded both fists on the workbench.

"I TOLD YOU NEVER TO DOWNLOAD ANY EXTERNAL FILES ONTO YOUR DRIVES! You imbecile! You blithering moron! Incompetent bucket of bolts!"

Bass was quick to return fire. "Shut up, Wily! I scan everything before downloading, and I've never had trouble with viruses or malware—"

"That's not the problem! The one-eighteenth of a second is the problem! Because you've bogged down your own blasted brain with an unbelievably massive library of— of _garbage_. You know there's a reason certain functions run off their own— the way I set up data storage— the RAID system— I— you—" He stopped and began pulling at his hair. "This may be the most enormously stupid thing you've ever done. There's a peripheral data drive for com logs and network data and— _external downloads!_ You incredible buffoon!"

Which Bass knew. He knew, and hadn't used it, just like he hadn't bothered to look at the diagnostic reports. He said nothing, because what was there to say? It was one of the few occasions where Wily was right, but it wasn't like he would ever admit it.

"What exactly are you listening to?" Wily asked finally, sounding exhausted.

After a hesitant pause, Bass shrugged. "It's not a private directory."

A way of saying that Wily was welcome to look, but he was far too agitated for that. "Get it off of your _personal_ drives and onto the peripheral one. Now. Then power down, so I can finish this accursed software update."

* * *

Wily purposefully ignored Bass for the next couple days, in a rare attempt to avoid further confrontation. Then it was a few more days after that before he started asking questions.

"Just how much music do you have downloaded? It looked as if you managed to hoard every last song that's ever been recorded."

"It's a lot." 'A lot' was a massive understatement. Wily was exaggerating about 'every song', but he hadn't been far off.

"No preferences— or standards either, from what I could tell."

"I don't play favorites."

"I was a little surprised there was only music. No shows, no movies. No digital books."

Bass was unsure how to respond.

Realizing his AI picked up human behaviors faster (and with better consistency) through repeated observation, he'd taken a hands-off approach to Break Man's 'people watching' hobby. He stuck to hacked public security cams, or rewatching his own memory files of eavesdropping and rooftop surveillance. But all of that was spontaneous, candid, unscripted. Real. The opposite of streaming entertainment.

So he avoided that.

"Yeah, when was the last time you watched a netshow or movies?" Bass made a quick, dismissive gesture, hoping Wily would drop it. "And I tried books. Didn't like them."

That was an oversimplification of what actually happened.

He'd found non-fiction to be dolled up versions of reports, documented history, and data that was easily found on the net. Non-fiction was written to make boring topics palatable for consumption, but to Bass it was just a lot of wind up he didn't need.

Fiction had been frustrating. Bass started with books, before music, or people-watching, or more importantly, turning to Break Man for a better understanding of himself. Fiction was full of emotions he didn't understand at the time, feelings he'd never experienced, and a lot of fantastical, whimsical nonsense that had grated his nerves. He should revisit them now, with a larger emotional repertoire and more experience and less stress about why he felt the things he did.

…Only the bitter taste had lingered, so he'd avoided that too.

"Hmm." There were a few moments of silence before Wily continued. "Why don't you stream from the net?"

The truth was that he couldn't stand when a slow or unsteady connection resulted in buffering, or worse, a song being cut off midway. He knew that wouldn't go over well, and scrambled for a better answer.

"Streaming is more hassle than it's worth."

Wily seemed to accept that, and started talking about his own tastes in music. As if Bass didn't already know. While planning or working he listened to a range of classical music, but also blues, jazz, gospel, soul, many related subgenres, and nothing that had been released in the last twenty years.

Talking about it now, he got a far away look in his eyes. "That bumbling idiot Xavier is a fan of blues, as well. We used to get into terrible arguments, you know." It was clear from his tone that they'd actually been friendly discussions, late night conversations that he remembered fondly even with all the bad blood between them. "I can't tell you how many times we retread the endless debate over whether Gilbert King or Stevie Raven was better."

"Raven's more talented," Bass replied.

"Oh, not you too. He's faster, there's a difference." He snorted. "Even if he _was_ more talented, he never would've amounted to anything if he hadn't built upon the backs of those who came before him. Besides, blues is about pain and suffering! There's beauty in the imperfection—"

The conversation quickly spiraled into their own heated, if satisfying, debate.

* * *

"—and all _I'm_ saying is in 'So Fake', he's straight up _caterwauling_—"

"How dare you!" There was a clatter of metal as Wily flung a wrench at him. It missed, the instrument striking the edge of a nearby shelving unit. "How dare you besmirch Jeff Truckley's name in this fortress! Out! Get out!"

Bass blew a raspberry before leaving. "You're just mad because I'm RIGHT."

* * *

When 'So Fake' played for the fourth time in a row, Bass went to investigate, only to find Wily with his head in his hands.

"It _is_ caterwauling," he said miserably.

* * *

The rousing, thunderous sound of Gagner indicated something intense and grand was afoot, and Bass was disgusted to find that Wily was hard at work on none other than his replacement.

"Hey, have you ever checked out Nittschke? If you're into this stuff, you'll probably like him too."

"I've heard the name," Wily replied, "but not his work." He nodded appreciatively. "I'll look into it."

* * *

"Terrible. Wretched. You did that on purpose, you heartless machine."

Bass didn't even try to hide his smug look. "What?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"That Nittschke. _Awful_. It's all— it's noise. Cacophony."

"It's challenging!" Bass punched his fist into his other hand. "Music is a tug of war between order and chaos. If you only play pleasant 'safe' notes it's boring, if you only play obnoxious notes, there's no melody. Nittschke lulls you into safety and then hits you with chaos. He makes you question what your understanding of music is."

"Ugh." Wily groaned, rolling his eyes. "It sounds like the orchestra gave up and threw their instruments down the stairs."

Not to be discouraged, Bass's smug grin broadened. "What happened to 'beauty in the imperfection', huh Wily?"

* * *

The lab was a mess, papers flung to the floor, delicate instruments toppled over, tools pitched clear across the room in a rage.

"Things are going well, I see."

Wily turned just enough to glare at Bass with one baleful eye, before raising his head from the computer terminal. "Swimmingly," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, and then he sagged in defeat. A few moments later he cautiously brightened. "You've never seen a movie before?"

"…Once."

The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he decided against it. "But you've never seen a _classic_." Now beaming, he rubbed his hands together. "It's been a while for me, but it's high time I introduced you to true cinema." With that, Wily slid off his chair, headed out the room and down the hall. "There's a holographic projector screen in one of these rooms," he muttered to himself, before glancing back at Bass, who cautiously followed along.

Once there, he quickly brought up a stolen streaming account over VPN.

"Ah-ha! Here we are. My favorite movie, 'Atlas Sneezed'…"

* * *

\- A/N: I'm really tempted to leave this as the last chapter, but "Thicker Than Water" needs to be the final one because of the title drop at the end. So I'll leave this here for now and in a few weeks (months) move it before the last or second to last chapter.

\- As much as I've enjoyed coming up with fake holidays, knock-off restaurant names, "I Can't Believe It's Not The Eagles vs. Cowboys" sports teams… my favorite by far is the play on Schnittke/Nitschke. (Alfred Schnittke was a Russian composer, Ray Nitschke was a football linebacker notorious for being violent.)


End file.
